Habits of Survival
by sabinekw
Summary: The Wolves have killed most of the inhabitants of Alexandria and have been chasing Rick's group of survivors for weeks. Thanks to a nasty virus, Judith is on the point of dying from dehydration. Looking for a way to save her, the group stumbles on an unexpected shelter that leads to an even more unexpected romance.
1. Chapter 1 - The Bells of St Marys

**The Bells of St. Mary's**

Rick stared through the bars of a six-foot-high, wrought-iron fence. Inside were half a dozen large red-brick buildings that looked to be at least a hundred years old. The cragged limbs of ancient oak trees arched over the yard, their crooked branches clinging to a few brown leaves. A sign on the gate proclaimed that this was St. Mary's Convent and School for Girls, established in 1825. About a hundred walkers milled about in the fenced-off yard. Nearly all were female—the older ones wearing habits, the younger plaid skirts. A few who had noticed him headed his way.

"We have to do this," Rick told the group. "With the Wolves behind us, this is our best chance at finding something to help Judith."

"I don't know, Rick," countered Michonne. "That's a lot of walkers."

"That means no one else has been in here," he asserted. "They'll have supplies. And they had a preschool. There could be formula or Pedia-Lite or something in there that she can keep down. We handled worse at the prison. We can do this."

Michonne's mouth tightened, but she didn't argue any more. Glenn and Daryl nodded. The rest of the group looked on apprehensively, but no one offered any more objections.

Rick went on. "We'll stick to the plan. Tara, Aaron, and Rosita will go to the far side and make some noise. Attract as many walkers as you can. Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, and I will climb the fence on this side. We'll stay in tight formation until we make it up to the main building and kick in the front door. We'll clear out any walkers inside and see what we can find. Abraham will take the rest of you to hide in the woods out of sight of the main road, but keep your eyes open. We don't know how far back the Wolves are. If we're not back in an hour, all of you get back on the road and head north."

Judith had been vomiting for more than a week. A couple of others in the group had experienced the same stomach bug, but they had all recovered within twenty-four hours. The baby still couldn't keep anything down, not even water. At this point, she was so dehydrated that she didn't even have any tears when she cried.

As the most experienced moms in the group, Jessie and Carol knew the situation was bad. What they really needed was an IV for Judith, but of course, they didn't have anything like that with them. And with the Wolves following them ever since they fled Alexandria, they hadn't had time to look for a hospital or clinic where they might find what they needed. It had been only three days since they lost Morgan and Sasha, and Maggie's pregnancy was slowing her down. They thought that if they could get some formula or sports drink or an electrolyte solution, they might be able to get the baby re-hydrated enough that she could recover.

Rick and some others had been foraging in a drug store that had been thoroughly cleaned out when he saw the flier. "St. Mary's School for Girls," it read. "Now enrolling for preschool." He had seized on the idea. A preschool might have what they needed for Judith and some of what they were going to need for Maggie when the baby came. There might be food and other supplies too.

Rick was determined. After all they had been through, they couldn't lose Judith. They had to risk a detour and hope that they were far enough ahead of the Wolves to stay out of trouble.

* * *

As Rick, Daryl, Michonne, and Glenn first entered the yard at St. Mary's, the plan was working out better than they could have hoped. Most of the walkers headed over to investigate the noise that Tara, Aaron, and Rosita were making. The small group heading inside had to take out just half a dozen before they reached the front door.

Rick turned the knob, unexpectedly finding it unlocked. They dashed inside, and Glenn closed the door behind them. But a loud beeping sound had started when they opened the door, and there were more walkers in the building than they had anticipated. Dozens were coming down the main staircase, attracted by the noise at the front door.

A sign not too far from the entrance pointed the way to the school office. "In there," shouted Rick. "We'll regroup and come up with a plan."

Daryl kicked the office door in. No walkers came out, which was a good sign. Rick entered first with the rest close behind. Daryl slammed the door behind them just as the first walkers from the stairway approached the door.

"Drop your weapons, or I'll put a bullet in his head," ordered an unexpected voice.

An attractive young woman stood beside and slightly behind Rick, a pistol pressed to his temple. Rick had already placed his knife and gun on the floor, but Michonne, Daryl, and Glenn hesitated. The woman cocked her weapon.

"Do it," said Rick.

Knives, handguns, Daryl's crossbow, and Michonne's sword slowly sank to the ground.

"Kick them over there," said the woman, gesturing with her head towards the counter that ran the length of the office. Daryl, Glenn, and Michonne obeyed, getting a better look at their adversary as they did so. Slightly taller than average, she looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Dark blonde hair hung down to the center of her back in waves. She wore one of the same blue-and-green plaid skirts the dead girls outside were wearing, but it was obviously several sizes too small. At least six inches of thigh were showing above here knee-high boots, and the waist of the skirt was held shut with several safety pins. Judging from the rest of her appearance, she obviously had access to food and running water, as well as makeup and maybe even a curling iron.

"Now," she continued. "You three sit down. Backs against the wall." As they complied, she turned to Rick. "You," she said, "have exactly fifteen seconds to tell me why you came in here and started killing all my roommates."

 _Roommates?_ Glenn mouthed to Michonne and Daryl, confused. They had killed no one but walkers on their way in.

"We had no idea anyone was in here," Rick began, trying to defuse the situation.

"But why come in, when the place is obviously overrun?"

"Formula," he said. "We were looking for baby formula. We saw a flier that said there was a preschool here. We need formula for my daughter, my baby, Judith. She's sick. Dehydrated. Can't keep anything down. We were hoping to find some formula or sports drink or something. Thought that might make her better. Please. We mean you no harm. Please help us." He was pleading, not for his life, but for his daughter's.

"There's no formula here," said the woman, as if the very idea was ridiculous. "It's a convent. The preschool is for four-year-olds. Academic preschool."

Michonne and Glenn shared a glance, both of them contemplating how they were going to get out of the situation they were in.

Just then, Daryl noticed a small dark hand curled around the side of the cupboards underneath the countertop that ran the length of the office. "Hey," he said. "Someone's back there."

A curly-haired toddler peaked around the corner, grinning. He jumped around where everyone could see him. "Hi!" he said, oblivious to the tension in the situation.

The woman was furious. "Trigger, hide and seek! Now! Don't come out—Mommy means it!" The boy, who looked to be quite a few months older than Judith, scampered away through an interior door.

Glenn tried not to smile. Michonne's mouth fell open. Daryl raised an eyebrow. But for Rick, it was as if a drowning man just saw a chance for salvation.

"You have a baby, too," he said, turning his head so that he could see her eyes, which also meant the gun was now pointed at his forehead. "You must have formula. You can help us. Please. I can see it, you can help us."

"I told you, there's no formula here," came the reply, but she was less adamant than before.

"Maybe, maybe not, but you can help us—I can see it," Rick entreated.

"Where is your daughter?" she asked.

"Hiding in the woods with the rest of our group. They're watching her while we look for supplies."

"What about her mother?"

Rick swallowed once before answering. "My wife didn't make it," he finally said.

The blonde seemed to have come to a decision. "Do you trust Jethro over here to go get her?" she asked, nodding towards Daryl.

Rick nodded. "I trust him like a brother."

"All right, here's the deal: Jethro goes alone to get the baby and leaves his weapons here. And he comes back alone. You bring anyone else back with you," she said, addressing Daryl, "bring any weapons, I'll kill you all."

Not too happy about being referred to as "Jethro," Daryl countered, "How'm I supposed to get through all them walkers without any weapons?"

"Oh yeah, that's the other condition—no killing any more of my roommates," said the blonde. "I'll keep them out of your way."

Careful to keep the gun trained on Rick, she stepped around the counter. With her left hand, she pressed a button. Feedback squawked through a loudspeaker on the wall. She lifted up a small microphone and spoke into it. "Attention ladies, it's time for choir practice. Please make your way to the second floor music room."

She flipped another switch and music started playing overhead, somewhere on the second floor. From the hall, they heard the sound of walker feet trudging back up the stairs. Somewhere outside, church bells began ringing, followed by a recording of a pipe organ playing a hymn. Through the window, Glenn could see it was attracting all the walkers towards a building that looked like a church or a chapel. "It's working," he announced.

"Go now, this is your chance," the blonde told Daryl.

He looked to Rick for reassurance. Receiving a nod, Daryl headed to the front door. He opened it a crack, but all the walkers had moved over to the chapel where the sounds of organ music was playing from a loudspeaker. He swiftly made his way outside, shutting the door behind him.

"Thank you," Rick said to the woman, his voice husky with emotion.

"I haven't done anything yet," she responded flatly.

Feeling curious, Glenn spoke up. "Why do you call the walkers your roommates?"

The woman looked him in the eye. "No one can get by on their own anymore, but there's only three kinds of people left in the world—rapists, cannibals, and dead cannibals. The dead cannibals make the best roommates because they keep the other two away." Something about her words—and the cold way she delivered them—clicked with the rest of the group. They suddenly understood her much better than they had just a moment before.

"Our group isn't like that," Rick protested. "We have women and children with us. We're family now."

The woman cut him off. "Yeah, my last group had women and children, too. Some of the men even liked to play family." She looked Michonne directly in the eye. "I can help you get away," she offered, speaking more softly. "The big one is gone. It would be the easiest thing in the world to shoot these two. I have an escape route. No one would find us. If there are other women and children in the woods, we could help them, too."

"It's not like that," Michonne said. "Rick's telling the truth. I'm not a prisoner. We're just regular people getting by as best we can. We're not cannibals, and no one's a rapist." She spoke with sincerity, but the blonde obviously still doubted her words.

An uneasy silence resumed.

"We didn't get a chance to introduce ourselves properly," Rick said. "I'm Rick. This is Glenn and Michonne. Darryl went to get Judith."

She stared back at him for a long time as if trying to make a decision. Finally, she offered, "I'm Lexie, and I'm still the person who will shoot you if you try anything."

"Fair enough," said Rick lapsing into silence again.

A clamor in the hallway announced that Daryl was back with Judith. He slid into the room, closing the door behind him.

"It's just me and Little Ass Kicker," he said. "No one else, no extra weapons."

"Set her on the counter," said Lexie. He did. Too weak to sit up, Judith just lay there, eyes glassy and staring.

"Now back away—against the wall," Lexie ordered. Daryl obeyed again, keeping his hands raised in front of him. "I told everyone else what was going on," he said softly to Rick. "They're staying put, for now."

Lexie took a good look at the baby. "She's older than I expected," she said to Rick. "This may not work."

Rick had no idea what she was talking about. "We'll be grateful for anything you can try," he said.

Lexie nodded, seeming to have made a decision. In a few swift movements, she flicked the switches so that the music upstairs and outside stopped. Abruptly, a chain divider, previously unnoticed by the group, fell from the ceiling, separating the area behind the counter from the area in front where Rick, Glenn, Daryl, and Michonne were. Lexie, Judith, and all the weapons were one the other side.

"What the hell!" yelled Daryl, as he stood and began pulling against the chains. Michonne and Glenn also jumped to their feet, hollering in protest.

Lexie had picked up the baby and was cooing to her softly.

"I'll try," Lexie said to Rick. He nodded, still unsure of what she meant.

Ignoring the group beyond the barrier, she carried the baby over to an office chair, sat down, and cradled her in her lap. From somewhere, she grabbed a receiving blanket, which she draped over her shoulder. She reached a hand inside her shirt, and something about the motion seemed so familiar to Rick that he put a hand on Daryl's arm to calm him. Understanding washed over Michonne as well. "Daryl," she cautioned him. "It's OK."

Flicking the blanket to cover them both, Lexie raised Judith to her chest. After a few tense moments, she smiled thinly at Rick. "She's nursing," she told him. "I think this might work."

While the baby ate, an uneasy silence reigned. Rick and his group talked quietly among themselves, trying to plan for what might happen next. Lexie considered her course of action as well. She knew that nursing the baby had been a mistake. She should have killed the adults when she had the chance. Now, she felt sympathy for them, and that couldn't be good. Trigger tiptoed over to her from his hiding place and looked at Judith. "Baby?" he asked, poking at her. "Baby eat?"

It was seeing Trigger that made Lexie's decision for her. She regretted it already, but she would do what she could to help these people—until they turned on her at least.

She waited until Judith had eaten her fill, which took far less time than it should have, and then cleared her throat, attracting Rick's attention.

"She's asleep," Lexie whispered. "She didn't eat much, but if she can keep it down, it might help her turn the corner."

From the other side of the chain barricade, Rick rose to his feet and nodded. "That's good," he said.

"This won't be enough though," said Lexie, cautiously. "She'll need to nurse again soon. It might take days before she's back to normal."

Rick nodded again. "You could come with us, you and your boy," he said, quickly adding, "of course, you'd be free to leave at any time."

"I'm not leaving," said Lexie. "But you could stay for a few days, you and your group."

Daryl spoke up, "I'm not stayin' in no convent full of walkers."

"The dead are trapped on the first and second floor and the main stairway," explained Lexie. "But the third floor, where the dormitory is, and the basement, where the cafeteria is, are clear. There's a back stairway here in the office. They can't get through. It's safe. I've been here since right after Trigger was born."

Rick and the others huddled around. "We could use a place to rest," said Michonne. "It looks like she has electricity and maybe even running water."

Glenn chimed in, "Maggie could use a bed to sleep in. We all could."

But Daryl wasn't convinced. "We don't know how far back the Wolves are. That trick at the bridge won't keep them off our tail for long. They'll find another way 'round."

As usual, Rick's was the deciding vote, and he wanted to give it a try. "We'll stay a couple of days. Long enough to rest and recover," he said. "The walkers are good camouflage. If we get lucky, the Wolves may even pass right by without knowing we're here."

He walked back over to the chain divider. "We'd like to stay," he announced.

Lexie hit the button that retracted the chains toward the ceiling. "If I'm trusting you to stay, I may as well trust you with your weapons," she said, feigning nonchalance that she did not feel. "You'll need to clean up the bodies you left behind. If anyone sees them, it ruins the illusion that no one's been in here. Stack them on the west side of the shed where no one can see them from outside the fence. And don't kill any more. I'll turn on the music long enough for you all to get inside."

"We'll clean up the bodies," said Rick. "But we also have some questions for you. Three, actually."

"OK," said Lexie, unsure.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Rick asked.

"I don't know. Maybe a couple of dozen. I try to avoid it."

Rick nodded and continued with the tougher questions. "How many people have you killed?"

Lexie's mouth hardened. "Only one."

"Why?" Rick asked, looking her in the eye.

Lexie's voice grew cold and tense. "He was Trigger's father, and he made the mistake of untying my hands while I was in labor."

* * *

Less than an hour later, the dead walkers had all been stashed away out of sight, and Rick's group was nearly all congregated on the third floor. Lexie met them in a large open area with couches and chairs that looked like it had functioned like a TV room and gathering place for the boarding school students. Maggie was the last one up, and Lexie watched with empathy as she laboriously climbed the last few steps.

Lexie addressed the crowd, using a voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. "There are a few ground rules," she told them. "First, when we're on this floor, no yelling or loud noises. There are three locked doors between the dead and us, but I don't want to give them a reason to try to get in. This place was built to be quiet, but it's not soundproof. The basement keeps the sound in a lot better, so if you feel the need to holler and run around, that's the place to do it," she added that last bit looking directly at Sam. "Second, no unlocking doors that are locked, and doors with red Xs on them should not be opened under any circumstances. A red X means there's dead in there."

She spoke as if she were giving instructions to a new class of students moving into the dorm. "The building has electricity and hot water, but I only use the lights in the basement where there aren't any windows. We don't use any lights on this floor. No candles, no flashlights. The blinds stay closed, all the time. We don't want to give anyone outside a reason to come in here."

"Most of the rooms on this floor have two beds, but a few have three or four. You can pick whichever ones you like. There's just one community bathroom—this may be the first time anyone male has ever been allowed in here," she said, smiling just a little, "but like I said, it has showers and hot water. The heat's on in the building, but you may need to open up the radiators in your rooms."

"Trigger and I sleep up there," she informed them, pointing at a trapdoor in the ceiling. "The rope ladder is the only way in, so it's the safest place. I'll keep Judith with me too," she added, looking to Rick for confirmation. "And if the boy wants to sleep up there he can," she said, nodding at Sam. "No one else comes up without permission."

"We can live with that," said Rick, speaking for the group.

Carl raised his hand as if he were in school. "Yes," asked Lexie.

"Um, how do you have electricity?" he asked.

Lexie looked proud as she explained, "The girls at St. Mary's have won the state science fair for eight out of the last ten years. One of those years, the project was installing solar panels on the roof. There's gardens up there too—also leftover from a science project."

Emboldened by Carl's example, Sam raised his hand. Lexie, who definitely had a soft spot for children, smiled, "Yes, young man," she said.

"When can we eat?" he asked. Jessie chided her son softly, but Lexie seemed unfazed.

"I'll take you down to the kitchens and cafeteria after you had a chance to settle in and wash up."

As the group began dispersing to pick out rooms, Rick walked closer to Lexie; Michonne and Daryl trailed behind to hear what he said. "You seem to know a lot about this place. . . from before," he hinted. "Were you a . . . uh . . . a resident here?"

Lexie knew what he was getting at. "No, I wasn't a nun, if that's what you're asking," she told him. "I was a student here—a long time ago. Later I was working on my doctorate in women's studies. I came here to do research on the long-term impact of sex-segregated education."

"Women's studies?" asked Daryl, as if he'd never heard of the concept, which, truthfully, he probably hadn't.

"Yeah," acknowledged Lexie. "My dad wanted me to do something more practical, so I have an undergraduate engineering degree too. But I really just wanted to make life better for women, you know," she explained, looking at Michonne. As an afterthought, she added, "In hindsight, if I really wanted to learn something useful, I probably should have majored in P.E."

* * *

Maggie sank onto the bed in the little dorm room, slouched so that her pregnant belly seemed larger than ever. "I am never moving again," she announced.

"Yeah, we'll see how well that works out when you have to pee again in five minutes," teased Glenn.

"That's not funny," countered Maggie.

Before Glenn could reply, there was a knock at the door. He opened it, hesitating when he saw Lexie there. Trigger stood right beside her, holding his mom's skirt and sucking his thumb.

"I had something I thought your wife might like," Lexie said, shyly, indicating the big blue plastic tub she held.

"Um, OK?" Glenn said, as if it were a question.

Lexie knelt down on the floor with the tub near Maggie's feet and plugged it in. Bubbles shot to the surface of the water inside as a humming sound began.

"Oh. My. God," said Maggie, speaking each word distinctly. "I never thought I'd see one of these again," she continued, shucking off her boots and socks and plunging her feet beneath the water. She sighed contentedly.

"I have some essential oils that might help if you have swelling," Lexie offered, glad that Maggie was enjoying the foot bath.

"Yes. Please." Maggie was sounding more relaxed by the minute. "Thank you," she added.

Curious, Jessie walked over from the room next door. "Wo-ow!" she enthused, drawing the syllable out. "I am so using that when you are done."

Her exclamations drew more attention, and within minutes, every woman in the group was crowded in the narrow doorway vicariously enjoying Maggie's foot bath.

Pleased by the response, Lexie stood and told them, "Come with me. I have something for the rest of you too."

With her son running in front of her, she led them down the hall to a door they had bypassed because it was locked. "I keep this shut up so Trigger won't get in here," she explained, drawing a key from her pocket and unlocking the door. "He makes a huge mess."

The room looked like nothing so much as a fully-stocked spa. Shelves covered in makeup and nail polish, curling irons, and hair dryers lined every wall. Jessie ran inside. "I can do everyone's hair," she said. "And nails. And makeup."

"How in the world. . ." Carol began.

"No one has as much makeup as high school girls who aren't allowed to wear it," Lexie told them by way of explanation. "I collected it all and brought it in here. You'll see we also have quite a collection of smutty romance novels, which were also definitely not allowed."

"Mascara," Rosita whispered reverently. "I haven't had mascara in eight months."

"Use anything you like," laughed Lexie, truly pleased by their reactions. "Sister Mary Frances—this was her room, she was in charge of the girls in the dorm—she also had a claw-foot tub in there," she gestured to a side door, "so you're welcome to a bath as well as pedicures and makeovers."

She slipped back out the door with Trigger. The rest of the women continued ooh-ing and ahh-ing over their finds. Rick and Aaron came to the door to see what was going on.

"Hey, are there any electric hair clippers in there?" wondered Aaron.

"No men allowed," proclaimed Jessie, dancing over to the door. She planted a kiss on Rick's lips before shutting the door in his face.

With the women fully occupied in their new-found spa, the men decided to check out the basement kitchen and cafeteria. It wasn't exactly your typical public school multi-purpose room. Thick, heavy brick columns supported an arched ceiling obviously built to carry the weight of the three-story building above. It felt old and strong and dark. The walls were plaster, and the floor was stone. There were no windows anywhere, and most of the space was one big room filled with long wooden tables and uncomfortable-looking benches. The only sources of light were bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling on cords.

"Feels more like a dungeon than a place to eat," observed Aaron. The others nodded in agreement.

"Feels safe to me," Lexie countered. "There are some huge cans of chili in the kitchen. Too big for just Trigger and I, but plenty for a hungry crowd though." She led the way into the kitchen, followed by Aaron, Eugene, and Glenn.

Daryl stopped Rick, Heath, and Abraham from following. "Hey, what's that?" He asked, nodding towards a door covered with a big red X.

"I don't know," said Rick, unholstering his gun. "She said there weren't any walkers down here." The trio walked closer to the door. Faint scratching sounds and an unmistakable moan were coming from inside.

"Hey, Lexie, can you come out here?" Rick called, unnaturally calm.

She approached the group. "I thought you said there were no walkers in the basement?" Rick asked, a slight hint of menace in his voice.

"There's one," she allowed. "A tiny, little nine-year-old girl behind a locked door. She's not a threat." Lexie seemed defensive.

"How do you know there's only one?" Daryl asked, and at nearly the same time, Rick added, "How can we be sure it's not a threat?"

Lexie answered both. "I know there's only one because I've been inside there. And if you can't handle the threat from one dead nine-year-old girl behind a locked door, you couldn't have survived this long."

"Why didn't you just take care of it?" wondered Heath.

Lexie looked uncomfortable. "She was my niece. . . my fiancé's niece. I convinced her family to send her here for school. I just . . . couldn't do it."

They all nodded. "We can take care of it for you," Abraham said, speaking more kindly than usual as he pulled a knife from his belt.

Lexie nodded and pulled out her keys. She unlocked the door and counted to three before flinging it wide. A short, skinny little black girl, her hair still in colorful ponytail holders, stumbled from the storeroom. Abraham quickly plunged his knife through her skull, then caught the body and laid her down. Heath found a white tablecloth inside the closet and draped it over the body.

Lexie watched, wordless and dry-eyed. "We can pull the body in here for now and bury it tomorrow if you like," offered Heath.

"Thank you," Lexie replied stiffly. She walked back to the kitchen where Glenn, Trigger, and Aaron were watching from the doorway.

* * *

Dinner was a boisterous affair. Still excited from their spa time, the women chattered happily, especially Maggie, Rosita, and Jessie, but even Michonne looked more relaxed than usual. Everyone knew this was only a temporary respite from the gore of daily life, but they'd also learned to enjoy these rare times when they came.

Despite being a year past the "sell by" date on the can, the chili was a hit. Aaron made cornbread. Heath heated up some frozen green beans. Glenn found some bottles of wine, and as usual, Abraham was happy to indulge.

"So Lexie," he began, the alcohol freeing his tongue, "What's with the skirt?"

"When I first got here, I needed new clothes. It was either this or the nun's clothes," she said by way of explanation. "You're just lucky, I was fully dressed when you got here." An unobservant man might have thought she was flirting with Abraham, but there was a sharp edge to her voice that cautioned otherwise.

Abraham carefully looked her up and down before saying, "Well, I'm not so sure I'd call that lucky."

Lexie smiled dangerously. "It _was_ lucky–because if I hadn't been fully dressed, I would have killed every last one of you without a moment's hesitation."

At the start of their conversation, the room had been full of happy talking. But a brief lull meant that everyone heard her last words. An awkward silence stretched until Judith began crying.

"I'll go find a quiet corner to nurse her again," Lexie said to Rick.

"Then we should start on the dishes," Aaron chipped in brightly.

Slowly, the talking began again, but it was more of a murmur than a happy clamor now. Everyone pitched in to help with cleanup, with Carol and Jessie taking charge.

Abraham and Glenn were busy sweeping when Eugene approached very stiffly and hissed, "Act natural."

"We are acting natural," countered Glenn. "You're the one acting like a wierdo."

"It has come to my attention that there are explosives, specifically Trinitrotoluene, commonly known as TNT, scattered throughout this building and wired to detonate at any time," he whispered.

"Show me," breathed Abraham, "but act natural."

Eugene walked to several points in the room nodding with his head at ledges and shelves where the explosives lay semi-hidden. Abraham chanced a glance over at Lexie, but she seemed absorbed with the baby. The three men moved closer to one of the bundles to inspect it more carefully.

"Well, I guess now we know she really could have killed us all if she wanted to," observed Abraham. "I wouldn't have expected it of her."

"My observations of the electrical and heating systems for the facility, while cursory at best, indicate that our hostess has a greater understanding of science and technology than the average female," offered Eugene. "I mean that with no disrespect."

"What do we do about it?" asked Glenn.

"For now, nothing," said Abraham confidently. "We don't know what other booby traps she might have around here. But we tell Rick."

The others nodded agreement.

Over in a dark corner, Lexie held Judith to her chest. The baby had fallen asleep again, but Lexie wasn't quite ready to rejoin the group yet. In her free hand, out of sight from any onlookers, she nervously turned a knife over and over in her hands, wondering anew if she should grab Trigger and flee, setting off the explosives on her way out.


	2. Chapter 2 - Christmas

**Christmas**

Daryl wasn't happy about the sleeping arrangements. "We need someone on watch, just like always," he told Rick.

"I'd agree, but we promised to keep the blinds closed," Rick countered. "We can't really watch if we can't look outside."

Apparently, Lexie had overheard because she chimed in, "There are motion sensors on the gate, and alarms on all the doors and windows. If anyone tries to get in, you'll hear a beeping. Should wake you up."

"There you go," Rick said evenly, looking at Daryl.

"I'm heading up with the babies," said Lexie, gesturing with her head to the trap door, "but I can only take one at a time. Can you hold Judith," she addressed Rick, "and I'll come back down for her in a second?"

Rick held his daughter in his arms, and he and Daryl both looked at the sleeping girl. "Her color's so much better already," observed Rick.

"Yeah," agreed Daryl. He gestured at the couch in the common area. "I'm gonna sleep here," he announced. "Then I can hear anything that tries to come through the door . . . or from up there." He spoke more softly with the last phrase and gestured to the trapdoor.

"I trust her," said Rick, firmly. "She nursed my baby, for Christ's sake."

"Yeah, but she's scared, and scared people do stupid shit," argued Daryl.

They stopped talking as Lexie came back down the ladder for Judith. They said their goodnights and headed for bed.

Daryl didn't really plan to sleep. He kept his eyes open, so he heard when Judith started crying maybe an hour later. The noise was followed by some gentle shushing, and he assumed Lexie was feeding her or rocking her or something.

After about twenty minutes, the trapdoor opened, and the ladder tumbled down. Lexie came down tentatively. Daryl unsheathed his knife in the darkness. "Hey," he greeted her, letting her know he was watching.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Lexie said, picking up her pace as she descended the ladder and jumping down the last few rungs. Sure she had been up to no good, Daryl eyed her suspiciously.

"What d'you want?" he asked.

"I had an idea," Lexie started, hesitating. "Do you what month or day it is?"

"Not really sure," shrugged Daryl. "Think I heard someone say it was December."

"Do you think anyone knows. . . for sure?" continued Lexie.

"Probly not."

"So, it could be Christmas Eve," Lexie said more confidently.

"Do you think Santy Claus is gonna come fill yer stocking?" mocked Daryl.

"Yeah, he is, and we're him," asserted Lexie. "Come on, I'll need your help."

"My help with what?" asked Daryl, petulantly.

"The way everyone reacted to the makeup and stuff, it got me thinking," explained Lexie. "Kids should have Christmas. Especially now. There's decorations and stuff in a closet on this floor."

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out. What you need me for?" Daryl clearly wasn't convinced this was a good idea.

"To lift heavy boxes off tall shelves," said Lexie, as if it should have been obvious. "What else would I need you for?"

Daryl sighed, but he trailed along behind her as she unlocked a closet and stepped inside. Daryl followed, and she closed the door, leaving them in pitch darkness. With a click, a flashlight suddenly illuminated the storage area. There weren't any windows in the closet, so Lexie was willing to risk the light.

As the flashlight blazed to life, they heard a sound from the shelves above them that spooked Daryl, and he pulled out his knife. Unworried, Lexie pointed the flashlight to a shelf where it landed on two glowing green eyes that belonged to an orange tabby cat.

"You have a cat?" Daryl asked, sounded surprised.

"Well, we both live here," said Lexie. "He looks after himself. Sometimes I let Trigger feed him though," she allowed. "And by sometimes, I mean, every day. We call him Oscar because he's kind of a grouch."

As the cat slinked away, Lexie pointed to a box that held an artificial Christmas tree and several others that held ornaments. Daryl dutifully began carrying the boxes to the common area while she began assembling the greenery.

"Oh, we need the box with the garland and ribbons first, before the ornaments," said Lexie, having hung the last set of branches on the fake tree. "Did you see them?"

Daryl shrugged. "I just brought what you told me to bring." He was now convinced that she didn't have anything nefarious in mind, but he still wasn't entirely sold on the idea of celebrating Christmas.

"Let's go look," she said, skipping lightly back down the hall. Clearly she was enjoying the process of decorating. Daryl followed at a much more sluggish pace.

"I think they're up here," Lexie said, straining to reach a box on a high shelf.

"Hey, look out," Daryl said, noticing that the shelving was starting to tip. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back out of the way just as several boxes slid to the floor with a muffled thump.

In a flash, Lexie pulled out a large, extremely sharp knife and pressed it up against Daryl's groin. Although startled by her reaction, Daryl made an instant decision not to fight back. He held up his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly, turning his head to look her in the eye. He paused a moment before he added, "not ever."

Lexie looked at him intently for what seemed like a long, long time. "I don't like to be touched," she finally said before pulling the knife back and tucking it out of sight.

"I understand," said Daryl. He picked up the box and motioned for her to lead the way back to the common area.

For some reason, Daryl felt like he trusted Lexie more after this incident. Of course, part of him thought this was ridiculous since she'd more or less threatened to cut off his dick. Still, he felt strangely interested in helping set up for Christmas. He tried making conversation, even pitched in hanging the ornaments, which he hadn't ever intended to do. Eventually, he admitted this was the first time he'd ever decorated a Christmas tree.

"For real?" asked Lexie.

"Yeah, my family didn't really do Christmas," he said gruffly.

"Are you Jewish?" wondered Lexie.

Daryl laughed once, without mirth. "Naw, just white trash. . . . I didn't get no gifts neither. Guess I missed out on all the best parts."

"Don't be silly," answered Lexie. "Everyone knows getting presents isn't the best part of Christmas—the best part is getting to be Santa Claus." Her eyes twinkled as she put a red hat trimmed with white fur on Daryl's head. "Come on, I think I have stuff that will work for presents, but I need you to pick them out for everyone."

Daryl was beginning to regret agreeing to help. He tugged off the hat and begrudgingly followed Lexie to yet another closet.

Inside was an assortment of items even more staggering than the display in the spa. Bottles of alcohol, perfume, old electronics, artwork, jewelry, and other valuables filled rows of shelves.

"Holy shit!" said Daryl, looking at Lexie in wonder. "Where'd you get this?"

"I thought that eventually I might have to trade with other people for food and stuff," explained Lexie. "So I put all the stuff I found that I thought might be worth something in here. I went through all the buildings to make sure I had everything useful. The bishop's house was sort of a treasure trove, and there was lots of communion wine. Do you think we can find something for everyone?"

"Yeah," said Daryl. "Rick would like these cigars, and Abraham always like booze. We can make this work."

"Good," grinned Lexie. "I'll get the wrapping paper; you do the shopping."

* * *

Early the next morning, Sam crept out of the room he was sharing with his brother and Carl. He had intended just to use the bathroom, but something in the common room caught his eye. He approached cautiously, then his eyes widened. He turned and sprinted back to his room.

"Ron! Ron! Carl!" he yelled. "You gotta come see this!"

The teenagers were less than thrilled about being woken up. Awakened by the noise, Rick and Jessie came over to see what was going on. Carol was right behind them.

"Shhh, you've gotta keep it down," Rick told Sam. "There's walkers right below us."

"Sorry," apologized Sam. "But you guys have gotta see this, you're not going to believe it!"

Sam led the way back to the common area. Along the way, more members of the group came out of their rooms, instantly alert for possible danger.

"Look!" Sam pointed at the tree, now beautifully decorated in old fashioned ornaments, most of them religious, of course. It was ringed with presents, and it took Sam just moments to home in on the one with his name on it. "Santa came!" he said. "I didn't even know it was Christmas."

Off to the side, four people were still sleeping. Worn out by the night's work, Lexie and Daryl had apparently both fallen asleep on the couch. Judith was tucked in Lexie's arms, and Trigger sat on Daryl's lap. The toddler was sucking his right thumb in his sleep while holding onto Daryl's ear with the other hand. Incongruously, Daryl was once again wearing the red and white Santa Claus hat.

"You're right, Sam," said Rick, "I don't believe it." He pulled Jessie in for a side hug. On his other side, Carol took in the scene with an inscrutable expression.

* * *

The morning passed in a flurry of activity, the way Christmas morning always had before the end of the world. Everyone was appropriately touched by their presents. Michonne and Carol both sported new earrings. Aaron had a Hawaii license plate. Sam had a set of Legos. Judith held a stuffed lamb. Jessie had gotten some art supplies. And sometime during the night, Lexie must have wrapped up a pack of cigarettes for Daryl without him noticing because he got those and an old zippo lighter. In the midst of the flurry of unwrapping, Maggie and Rosita realized that there wasn't a present for Lexie. Ransacking their packs, they came up with a pair of jeans they thought would fit.

"It's not wrapped, but this is for you," Maggie said, holding out the pants. Lexie looked touched. She choked out, "Thank you!" before rushing off to put them on.

A few people wandered off to start preparing a Christmas dinner down in the kitchen, but most of the group stayed in the common area. The tree seemed to attract them like moths to a flame. Conversations were hushed but very happy. Smiling, Lexie sat quietly near Trigger, who was running a toy car across the floor. Michonne and Maggie sat close by.

"He reminds me of my son," Michonne observed softly. Curious, she asked, "Why did you name him 'Trigger'?"

"Just seemed like the kind of strong name a kid would need to grow up now," Lexie shrugged.

"There's more to it than that, isn't there?" probed Michonne.

"It . . . seems a little stupid now," said Lexie. Gaining courage, she continued. "In college they were always giving trigger warnings. You couldn't mention anything the least bit violent or frightening without saying 'trigger warning' first. I always thought it was dumb then. . . But when my baby was born, I couldn't stand to look at him . . ." she looked up at Michonne as if willing her to understand. "Because he reminded me of his father," she explained. "But if you name your fear, it takes the power away, so I named him Trigger."

"His father definitely wasn't your fiancé, then?" asked Maggie, speaking gently.

"No. My fiancé was in Europe when this all happened, on a six-week tour with his dance company. He called once to say he would try to get home and meet me at our apartment in New York. I tried to get back to the city, but Trigger's father and his group stopped me before I got there. . . . " Her voice trailed off.

From the other side of the room, Daryl was sitting in a chair watching Michonne and Lexie talk. Aaron came and stood beside him. Looking straight ahead, Aaron softly said, "I couldn't help but notice that you have a very interesting tear in your trousers."

"Yeah," acknowledged Daryl. "She doesn't like to be touched."

Aaron followed his gaze across the room and realized who "she" must be.

"Ah," said Aaron, as if Daryl had explained everything. "I can sew those up for you if you like."

Daryl didn't respond. Instead, out of the blue, he asked, "Do you remember that horse, outside Alexandria?"

"Yeah, Buttons," said Aaron.

"She reminds me of that horse."

Aaron looked quizzical. "I don't think I would say that to her. . . that she reminds you of a horse."

One corner of Daryl's mouth twisted wryly. "Naw, probly not."

* * *

Christmas dinner had been a success. While no one felt completely at ease, everyone seemed more relaxed than they had in weeks. They had needed the rest the night at St. Mary's had provided.

But Rick knew it couldn't last.

As soon as everyone looked nearly finished, Rick stood to address the group. "A toast," he began, holding up a glass, "to our gracious hostess, who not only gave us a place to rest, but saved my child from an almost certain death. I will always be grateful. . . Merry Christmas, everyone."

The rest of the group murmured, "Merry Christmas" in response and sipped from their glasses.

Rick continued, "This rest may have saved our lives, but we can't stay here. We don't know how far back the Wolves are, but we can be sure they won't give up. They're on our trail, and we can't forget it." He paused a moment to let that sink in before continuing. "We'll stay here a few days, but we can't let down our guard. Daryl, Michonne, Abraham, Rosita, I know it's Christmas, but I'd like to send you out to do some scouting. Everyone else will have jobs to do here to help us get ready to get back on the road. I'll meet with the team first, and then I'll be coming around to talk with everyone else." He repeated one last time, "Everyone has a job to do." It was a lesson he had learned in Alexandria: everyone would need something to do to keep their minds focused on what had to be done instead of contemplating all they had lost.

Several people started clearing the dinner dishes. The scouts gathered around Rick who led them over to stand by Lexie.

"We're going to need to turn on the music again to let these guys out," he told her. "Those people on our trail-it puts you in danger, us being here. I know the music is a risk if anyone is watching, but it's one we have to take."

"I have a better idea," said Lexie, unexpectedly. "Back before the Civil War, this was a stop on the underground railroad. There's a tunnel that starts here in the basement and leads out to the woods south of here a ways. Your scouts can use it to get in and out without anyone seeing."

"Show me," said Rick, feeling concerned about this unknown entrance.

Lexie led them back to the same storeroom where the young walker had been. In a back corner was a small locked door—solid iron and just small enough to crawl through. "It was designed to look like coal storage for the furnace, but if you crawl through, it opens up tall enough to walk about 10 feet in. It's locked on this side, but it's open in the woods, so I have no idea what might be on the other end of the tunnel."

"This is good," said Michonne. "Better than going out the front." Everyone else nodded agreement.

"It's settled then," said Rick. "We'll post a watch here while you're gone. When you get back, knock and we'll let you back in. Don't use the tunnel unless you're sure no one is following though."

Everyone nodded again, and Rick detailed his plans for where he wanted them to go. They should follow their trail back south for at least three miles, fanning out a bit to check for anyone who might be following on either side. Under no circumstances were they to engage the Wolves. This was strictly a reconnaissance mission. And they were to avoid walkers if they could help it.

Michonne, Daryl, Abraham, and Rosita headed off to collect gear for the mission. While they were gone, Rick took the opportunity to speak with Lexie again.

"So is this the only entrance to this place I don't know about?" he asked, trying to sound friendly but not succeeding very well.

"There is one other way out," conceded Lexie. "Almost no one knows about these tunnels; most of the nuns didn't even know they were here. A few of the girls at school knew about them and used them to sneak out, but it was a pretty closely guarded secret. If the nuns had known any of the students knew about them, they would have closed them up."

"I'm worried about this other tunnel," said Rick. "I'd like to set a guard."

"No offense," said Lexie, "But I'd rather that tunnel remain a secret for now. It's my escape route. If these Wolves come and we all need to get out in a hurry, we can. And I can make it impossible for anyone to follow. The other end of the second tunnel is locked up tight and camouflaged nearly as well as this place is. There's also an alarm. You don't need to worry."

Although he still felt uneasy, Rick nodded. "Eugene found your dynamite," he acknowledged.

Lexie raised her eyebrows. "He's smart, that one," she said. After a moment, she added, "The explosives need to stay where they are . . . just in case."

"Just in case," Rick agreed.


	3. Chapter 3 - A Job to Do

**A Job to Do**

"What do you think that is?" Abraham asked Rosita.

The group of four had split into two to cover more ground. Abraham and Rosita had headed southeast, while Daryl and Michonne had taken a more southwestern route.

Up ahead of Abraham and Rosita were a series of long, low-slung buildings. They would have looked at home in an industrial park, but they were out in a meadow in the middle of nowhere—no roads for miles. The exteriors of the buildings were clad in shiny metal, except for a long row of short windows just below the roof. From inside came a low hum that sounded almost like voices, as well as a powerful stench.

"I know that smell," said Rosita, as she pulled the collar of her shirt up over her nose. "Chickens."

They headed toward the nearest building and looked through the window, Rosita standing on tiptoe to see. Inside was a scene of carnage. The single room inside the structure held thousands of dead chicken carcasses, many of them little more than bones, but some obviously more recently deceased. Atop the piles of bodies roamed dozens of scraggly looking birds of all ages, some very newly hatched. They picked at the remains of their forefathers, fighting amongst themselves for scraps of meat.

"Ugh," said Rosita, disgusted. "Cannibal chickens."

"Yep. Looks like they've lived through several generations. Gone back to their wild state. Eating the only thing they could find." Abraham pointed at a gaping hole in the roof. "Look," he said, "that's how they've been gettin' water."

"Why aren't there any walkers here?" wondered Rosita. "They're making plenty of noise."

"Don't know, don't care," replied Abraham. "But I think we've just found us some fresh meat."

* * *

About half a mile from the convent, Michonne spotted a gully with sides just steep enough to trap walkers inside. Three or four of the dead milled around in the ditch, half-heartedly reaching toward Michonne when they saw her.

"Hey, Daryl!" she called. He was standing some distance away—just standing there, not paying attention. He didn't respond.

Michonne walked a few steps toward him waving her arms. "Yoohoo, earth to Daryl!" she said mockingly. When he finally looked up, she added, "Come check this out," and led him over to the ditch. It stretched a long way in both directions

"If someone was trying to sneak up on that school, this would give 'em good cover," said Daryl.

"Yeah," said Michonne. "I'm surprised there's not more walkers in there."

"It must be open at the ends," said Daryl. "Let's follow it."

For more than a mile, the gully wound mostly downhill, which was also the direction most of the stray walkers inside were headed. Eventually, it widened and became more shallow until it was little more than a ripple in the ground.

"We're gotta keep our eyes on this," said Daryl. "It's the best route, and we'd never see the Wolves in there till they got close. It heads right for that tunnel too."

Michonne nodded. Suddenly, they heard a gunshot in the distance. The two looked at each other for a brief instant.

"Let's go," said Daryl, readying his bow as he ran toward the sound.

* * *

Abraham and Rosita found a couple of old grain sacks in a trash pile at the farm. They busted the padlock on the coop they had examined and went inside. Feathers flew as they rounded up birds and stuffed them in the sacks, getting plenty of cuts on their hands as the feral chickens pecked and scratched.

After a good half hour of running and sliding in the shit, guts, and rotting meat on the floor, they had full sacks, but they were both sweaty and covered in the mess. Rosita rubbed her hands on her pants to clean them, but only succeeded in spreading the dirt around. From a few steps away, Abraham watched and laughed at her.

"Girl, I must say, you have never looked finer," he teased.

"Go to hell, Abraham," she retorted, plucking something—she wasn't exactly sure what—from her hair.

"What do you say we take a quick look around, make sure we didn't miss anything good, and then head back?" Abraham suggested.

"OK," she agreed.

They soon discovered that they had chanced upon the only coop that the walkers hadn't found. The next two were full of dead humans, their bodies distended from feasting on the poultry. Both had doors that stood partially open.

"Well, I guess, we know where all the walkers were," said Abraham. "They took the easy pickings and hadn't gotten into that last barn yet."

"Let's go, Abraham," sighed Rosita. "This is pointless."

He ignored her, walking toward a large building that was shaped a bit differently than the others. "I want to check out that shed," he said. "Could be machinery or somethin' useful in there. You give the last chicken barn a look-see, see if the walkers found it."

Reluctantly, Rosita wandered off to do as Abraham had suggested. Meanwhile, he swung open the shed door and cautiously waited a moment before heading inside.

"Oh, shit!" Rosita heard him yell. Then he was firing his weapon. She dropped her sack and ran towards him.

* * *

By the time Daryl and Michonne arrived, the battle was nearly over. Rosita and Abraham were walking back and forth, kicking at corpses to make sure they were truly dead. Between the two of them, they had killed nearly twenty. Fortunately, they had also managed to save the chickens. But they were now splattered in walker blood in addition to the chicken blood and shit and feathers that had coated them earlier.

"What the hell the happened to you?" asked Michonne, aghast at their appearance.

"Nothin'," Abraham deadpanned. "We just decided to try our hand at a little chicken farmin'." He thrust his sack full of birds into Daryl's hands, who peaked inside, then quickly closed the sack again as the bird started to cluck and fuss.

"Cool," said Daryl. "You alright?"

"Right as rain, and no sign of the Wolves," reported Abraham.

"Let's just get back," Rosita groaned.

"I don't think so," said Michonne. The other three looked at her, confused. "I'm not going anywhere with the two of you. . . . You can take the lead, and I will follow from way back here," she said, backing away about thirty steps. "In fact, you go on and get a half mile ahead, I'll still be able to follow your stench."

Rosita scraped a handful of mud and goo from her clothes and flung it at Michonne, but it fell short.

A half hour later, they had made good progress back toward St. Mary's, when Abraham suddenly stopped. "Do you smell that?" he asked the others.

Michonne laughed from ten feet behind him. "I don't smell nothin' but you," she told him.

"No, we stink, but this is even worse," Rosita agreed with Abraham.

"Do you smell it, Daryl?" Abraham asked. But Daryl was lost in thought again and didn't seem to notice the conversation.

"Daryl!" chided Michonne, a little perturbed. "That's the second time today. Snap out of it. Do you smell something?"

"Maybe," said Daryl, looking around. "Yeah, smells like pig shit."

Just then two walkers burst out of the underbrush near Daryl. He quickly put an arrow in one, and Michonne headed over to lop the head off the other with her sword. "How'd they get so close?" wondered Michonne. It really wasn't that unusual for walkers to come up on them in the woods, but she blamed Daryl for not paying attention.

"There's more," Daryl yelled, spotting several dozen in the underbrush. "Let's go!"

The quartet dashed through the woods with Daryl now leading the way. Despite the imminent threat, he again seemed to lose focus. As they burst out of the trees, they abruptly discovered the source of the smell. Daryl plunged shoulder-deep into the filthiest water Michonne had ever seen. She nearly stopped in time, but the ground was slippery and she slid in after him.

"Daryl!" she hissed angrily. "You weren't paying attention again. And now we're in this—what is this?"

"Storage pond—for hog manure probly," Daryl informed her. Her face registered sheer disgust, just as Abraham and Rosita, who had been slowed by the sacks of chickens they were carrying, came into view. Abraham immediately started guffawing as Rosita attempted to hide a smile.

"Why, Michonne, now you smell almost as nice as we do," he joked. "Now get out of there before those walkers catch up."

Just then several bodies emerged from below the pond's surface. Walkers, groaning and gnashing their teeth, reached for Daryl and Michonne. Covered in slop, Daryl's crossbow was useless, so he pulled out his knife to handle the one closest to him. Michonne sliced through another, but the slime affected her grip, and she nearly lost her sword.

The commotion attracted more walkers who had apparently been submerged in the deeper center portion of the pit. Now at least thirty walkers in the pond were headed for Daryl and Michonne.

"Shit, how many walkers are in there?" asked Abraham. He tossed Rosita his bag of chickens and slid into the black liquid to help dispatch walkers.

"Guys, that herd behind us is comin' too. Get out of there!" hollered Rosita.

"Distract them!" Abraham yelled back.

Thinking quickly, Rosita opened up one of the bags and dumped the chickens out. Flapping their nearly useless wings and squawking like crazy, the birds scattered. The noise and movement distracted the herd, and the individuals walkers spread out, each intent on reaching one of the chickens.

Some of the walkers in the pond caught sight of the chickens as well and headed for the side, vainly reaching their muck-covered arms toward those that were nearest.

"This way!" Abraham called moving sideways along the edge of the pond, away from the spot where Rosita had dropped the birds. Rosita headed the same direction as well, carrying the only sack that still held chickens. Michonne and Daryl staggered behind Abraham, taking out a few more walkers who had gotten close.

Abraham had pulled himself out of the pond and Daryl was right behind him when a walker rose up from the opposite direction and grabbed Michonne's arm. She sliced through its shoulder with her blade, but just then another walker emerged from behind her, its teeth headed right for her neck.

"Michonne!" warned Abraham.

Nearly too late, Daryl turned and grabbed the walker from behind, ramming a knife in its skull. Michonne pursed her lips in anger. It had been a close call, and she was sure Daryl would have gotten that walker faster if he had been his usual self.

"Let's go! We're not out of this yet!" Daryl hollered at her.

Spurred into action, Michonne hauled herself out of the pond and joined the others, all of them now sprinting back toward the convent.

* * *

Hearing the pounding on the other side of the iron door, Rick pulled it open and pointed his gun inside—just in case. Almost immediately, he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"What is that?" he gasped.

"That, my friend, is some mighty fine hog shit, covering a layer of chicken shit and walker blood," Abraham informed him as he climbed out of the tunnel mouth.

"Here," said Rosita summarily, handing Rick the bag of chickens. She stalked off towards the stairs, presumably to shower.

"What happened?" Rick asked Abraham.

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Abraham said breezily. "No sign of the Wolves, but we did find some fresh poultry," he added, nodding at the bag, which was undulating slightly as Rick held it. "Chicken dinner for everyone."

"The rest of us already ate, so maybe we can have these tomorrow," Rick said with a smile.

"Fine by me," said Abraham. "If you'll excuse me, I could use a shower."

By now, Michonne and Daryl had also climbed through the doorway, and Daryl was latching it shut when Michonne spoke up.

"What happened was that Daryl wasn't paying attention, and it nearly killed us all." She hadn't gotten any less angry on the run back to St. Mary's.

"What are you talkin' about, I saved your life!" said Daryl angrily.

"Maybe," Michonne fired back. "But maybe you would have gotten that walker earlier if you had your head in the game." She turned to Rick. "He was off in the clouds the whole time we were out there. I had to yell and wave my arms just to get him to hear me. I'm not goin' out there with him again till he gets his head right." As she announced that last bit, she stalked off, leaving the two men alone in the small room.

Rick looked at Daryl uncomfortably. "Any of that true?" he asked.

Daryl nodded slightly. "I could have been paying better attention," he said. "I didn't hear her once, and it was my fault we fell in the manure pond." He continued more angrily, "But she's got no call saying I almost got her killed. She did that on her own. That walker would have had her without me."

Rick nodded in understanding. "She's angry now, but she'll calm down," he said.

"She better," said Daryl belligerently.

"What about you, though?" Rick asked. "Do you need a break? We've been on the run a long time."

"I'm alright. Always am," said Daryl.

"You gotta be alright when the Wolves arrive," countered Rick. "We're know they're coming. I need you, brother." Daryl nodded once. Rick continued, "Let's let someone else take a turn on patrols for a couple of days-give Michonne a chance to simmer down."

"Whatever," mumbled Daryl as he headed upstairs.

* * *

After a quick shower, Daryl was hungry. He headed back to the basement to look for something in the kitchen. Lexie was there, still doing the dishes from the earlier dinner.

"Did they stick you with the dishes?" Daryl asked, slightly perturbed on her behalf.

"Naw, I volunteered," said Lexie. "I spend a lot of time down here. It's the only safe place for Trigger to run around and be noisy. Everyone else seems to think it's a little gloomy though."

"It's spooky as hell," said Daryl.

"Not to me," Lexie disagreed. "I first came here when I was six years old, right after my mother died. It feels like home—safe."

"Here, I'll help dry," Daryl offered, picking up a dish towel.

"Um, no offense, but are you sure you should be handling the clean dishes?" Lexie asked. "I mean, you don't smell so good."

"I took a damn shower," Daryl countered. "What do you expect—I spent the whole afternoon in a damn hog manure pond!"

Lexie smothered a giggle and handed him a dripping plate. "I don't think those are actually meant for swimming."

Daryl was still fired up. "It was full of walkers too! I mean we could have died, and now Michonne's all pissed off over nothin'."

"Is everyone OK?" Lexie asked, sounding worried.

"Yeah, everyone's fine," Darryl said, a little more calmly, continuing to dry dishes as Lexie handed them to him. "Everyone but me. I'm grounded—can't leave this place because Michonne thinks I ain't got my head in the game."

"What do you mean?" wondered Lexie.

"Rick took me off patrol duty for a few days," Daryl admitted.

"A day off doesn't sound so bad," Lexie suggested.

"What am I going to do around here," asked Daryl, exasperated. "Twiddle my thumbs?"

Lexie didn't have an answer, so the two of them continued to work on the dishes in silence for a while.

"Hey, where's your boy?" Daryl wondered after a while.

"Jessie and Maggie took him and Judith for a while," explained Lexie. "They said they wanted to give me some time off—but honestly it just makes me nervous to be away from him."

"So you have a night off, but you're washing dishes?" Daryl observed.

Lexie smiled a little, "Yeah, I guess so. . . . Just like you have a night off and you're drying dishes." Daryl smiled slightly in reply and they both lapsed back into silence.

* * *

The dishes done, the two of them rejoined the others upstairs. Lexie immediately swooped up Trigger in a big hug and swung him around as he giggled infectiously. She stayed close to the woman, all of them chatting happily, albeit in whispers so as not to agitate the walkers downstairs.

Daryl sat down by Rick, unconsciously positioning himself where he could watch Lexie.

"Whoa!" said Rick, flapping his hand in front of his face. "I thought you said you were going to take a shower?"

"I did," Daryl protested halfheartedly. "'Spose I could take another one. Lexie said I smelled bad too."

"Maybe take two or three," Rick offered. "I bet we could find you some fancy spa shampoo-leave you smelling like roses."

"Stop," Daryl growled in reply. He didn't make any move toward the showers, however, instead, staring over toward Lexie and the other women.

"You and Lexie seem to be getting pretty friendly," Rick observed.

"Don't," Daryl warned Rick.

Rick smiled, aware that he had touched a nerve. "Aaron was just commenting that you seemed to be keeping your eye on her."

"So now you're gossipin' 'bout me?" Daryl complained. He continued in a quieter voice, "Someone's gotta keep an eye on her, she had a gun on us yesterday. Suddenly everyone's acting like she's their best friend just cuz she put up a damn Christmas tree."

Lexie was now playing cars with Trigger, both of them making motor noises with their mouths as Sam looked on and encouraged them to race.

"Yeah," Rick said sarcastically, "She's a pretty big threat." He eyed Daryl as he continued, "I'm just wondering if she was part of the reason for your lapse in attention this afternoon."

"What?" spluttered Daryl.

Rick raised his hands up to calm his friend. "Don't get all worked up," he said. "If I'm wrong about this, I'm wrong. I'm just saying that it's OK to make a new friend if you want to."

"She's just some stupid college bitch," replied Daryl, speaking softly enough that only Rick could hear. He sprang to his feet and stomped off toward the showers.

He only made it partway down the hall before he was stopped again. Carol stood in the doorway to her room, arms crossed over her chest. "Gotta second?" she asked.

"What's up?" Daryl asked in response.

Carol gestured with her head. "She's working awfully hard to make everyone think she wants to be their best friend. I don't trust her."

Daryl sighed, knowing that Carol was talking about Lexie. "She's just tryin' to keep herself and her boy safe. If everyone likes her, they won't hurt her. . . And if she's gonna run, us trustin' her makes that easier too."

"You seem to have given this a lot of thought," Carol said, just a bit of an accusation in her voice.

"Not really that hard to figure out."

Carol accepted that. "She could be a threat," she said. "I'd feel better if someone was keepin' an eye on her."

"Don't worry, I am," Daryl replied before heading down the hall to the shower.

* * *

A few hours later, everyone but Daryl had retired to their rooms. He opted to sleep in the common area again, keeping an eye out, just in case. In the attic above, he could hear Lexie with the two babies. One was crying; the other just making noise. The trapdoor opened with a creak and he could hear Lexie climbing down the ladder.

"Hey," he said, in a repeat of the night before.

Lexie sounded harried. "I think Judith wants to eat again. Trigger needs to go to sleep, but he'll want to nurse too if he sees me feeding Judith," she explained. "Do you mind if I feed her down here?"

"Naw, it's fine," said Daryl, a little gruffly, even though he did mind a little.

"If you're uncomfortable, I can go down the hall," she offered.

"Naw, really, it's fine. I don't mind."

Lexie settled into a chair and soon had Judith calmed down and eating happily. Daryl didn't know where to look. Even though it was dark and Lexie was covered with a blanket, it didn't seem right to look at her while she was exposed like that. He settled for staring straight up at the ceiling and darting glances her way every now and then.

"I should have said so earlier, but thank you for helping with Christmas," Lexie whispered to Daryl.

"It wasn't nothin'. I just moved boxes."

"You picked out all the gifts—that wasn't nothing. And you did a good job. Everyone was happy," she insisted.

"It was your idea. I should be thanking you," he replied. Somehow the darkness made it seem OK to say things he wouldn't have said in the daylight. "I've never had that before-a Christmas like that. To have something like that now, that was really somethin'."

It was quiet for a moment before Lexie spoke up again. "I also need to thank you for not freaking out when I pulled out the knife." Daryl started to make protesting sounds, but she continued. "Really, most people would have just knocked me down, taken the knife away."

Daryl deflected the thanks. "I couldn't do that, what would we do about the little ass-kicker?" he asked chancing a glance toward Judith. Then more seriously, he added, "It's OK, I know what it's like."

"What what's like?" asked Lexie, a little defensive.

"To be broken."

She'd been prepared to argue that he couldn't possibly understand what she had been through, but somehow, it seemed like he really might understand.

"Thank you," she whispered again. "Judith's asleep. I should get her back upstairs."

"Do you want me to carry her?" asked Daryl. "It can't be easy to get her up that ladder in the dark."

Lexie started to say she could do it herself, but then thought better of it. "I could use the help," she admitted.

Daryl carefully carried the sleeping baby up the stairs and placed her in the large laundry basket Lexie pointed to in the darkness.

"Merry Christmas," he said softly before climbing back down again.

"Merry Christmas," Lexie repeated, but it was too late—he was already gone.

* * *

It took Daryl a long time to get to sleep that night. He wasn't really worried about walkers getting in anymore, but he still didn't seem to be able to nod off. He kept running the day over and over in his mind-and stewing about Michonne. He kept toying with the lighter he had gotten, flicking it on and off, even though he knew it was against the rules. The blinds were closed, he reasoned, it was safe.

But it wasn't. Not at all.

Outside, two Wolves were looking up at the windows of St. Mary's and arguing. "That's definitely a light. It turns on and off. I'm telling you there's someone in there."

"It's your imagination," another countered.

A third stepped out of the darkness and put the argument to rest. "It's not worth the risk going in there, but we'll post a watch over on the north side. The rest of us will push on, keep looking. We'll find 'em."


	4. Chapter 4 - Dishes

**Dishes**

The group had been at St. Mary's for several days now. Although scouts had ranged farther and farther south, no one had yet encountered any sign of the Wolves—not even a single walker with a W carved in its forehead.

"Be careful out there," Maggie told Glenn as she fussed with his clothes.

"I will," he assured her. "You get some rest . . . both of you," he added, addressing her very pregnant belly.

"Who else is going?" she asked him.

"Michonne, Rosita, Abraham, and Heath."

"Not Daryl?" she asked, smiling just a bit.

Glenn smiled as well. "Daryl volunteered to help with the breakfast dishes again," he said. "I believe this makes seven meals in a row now." They both laughed a little before kissing each other.

"Be careful," Maggie repeated.

"I will."

* * *

Lexie and Daryl were back in the kitchen again. By now they had done the dishes together so many times that they had it down to a routine.

Trigger came running through the kitchen chasing Oscar the cat. "Hey, look out!" Daryl yelled at the little boy. "Floor's wet."

Neither the toddler nor the cat slowed down. Oscar hit a puddle of water and freaked out. He jumped into the air and landed on a plastic bag, which scared him even more. He rolled over and over in the plastic bag before finally working his way free and bolting for the dining room at top speed. Trigger wandered behind him plaintively calling "Kitty, kitty! . . . Kitty, kitty!"

Lexie laughed aloud, and Daryl surprised himself by laughing too-something he found himself doing more and more often lately. He knew what the rest of the group was thinking about him and Lexie. They were wrong, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from volunteering to be wherever she was.

They worked on in silence for a few minutes, the dishes almost done. Both looked around for something else to do, but there wasn't anything left.

Lexie took a deep breath. "So," she began, "what's behind this sudden interest in doing dishes?"

"Whaddya mean?" asked Daryl

"I asked around, and no one seems to think that you've ever shown any interest in the cleanliness of your tableware before now."

Daryl shrugged. "Gotta have somethin' to do. Since I'm fired from runs, dishes seemed better than getting stuck with scrubbing toilets."

Lexie wasn't buying it. She moved closer to him and asked, "Do you really expect me to believe that you're volunteering to be down here with me all the time just because you're worried about scrubbing toilets."

Daryl looked away. "I can volunteer for somethin' else if you don't want me down here," he offered.

"You know I don't want that," said Lexie. "I'm glad for your help." She paused a moment, then added, a little shyly, "It's been good to get to know you." When Daryl didn't speak, she continued in a more businesslike tone. "Look, Daryl, I don't know how much longer your group is going to be here. The Wolves could show up any minute. Are you going to make a move or not?"

Her directness left Daryl dumbstruck for a moment. He decided not to answer the question. "You should come with us when we go," he said instead. "It would be safer for you and Trigger."

"Right," said Lexie, a little irritated. "Because joining a group being chased by a pack of murderous thugs calling themselves Wolves is much safer than staying in a place where no one found me for more than a year."

"Do you really want to say here, alone?" countered Daryl. "What if you break your leg or get sick or somethin'? What would happen to Trigger?" If there was one argument guaranteed to work on her, Trigger's safety was it. He continued, "You might survive here, but it's not a life. Come with us."

Lexie looked him straight in the eye. "And would I have a life if I came with you?" she asked softly.

Uncomfortable, Daryl backed away. "It's, it's not like that," he tried to explain. "I— I— I just thought the group could use you. Your help with Judith, I mean. And it would be good for you to be with the group. . . too. But, I mean, that's all."

As his voice trailed off, a disappointed embarrassment flooded Lexie's face. "I see," she whispered.

She threw the dish towel she had been holding onto the counter, then turned and walked out of the kitchen, hoping to escape before Daryl saw the tears in her eyes. It was silly to feel this way, she thought to herself. She should have known better than to let herself have feelings like these. After all, she wasn't even sure she could stand to let someone touch her. Out in the dining room, she walked faster, forgetting to bring Trigger with her.

From the storeroom doorway where she was standing guard on the tunnel entrance, Carol watched her go, a slight smile on her face. While she hadn't heard the entire conversation, she had heard enough. She still wasn't convinced that Lexie wasn't a threat, and she wouldn't be sorry to leave her behind when they left.

* * *

The recon team was pushing farther out than usual, so they weren't back for lunch. The meal was quiet with fewer people around the table than usual. As soon as everyone had finished, Daryl spoke up. "I'll get the dishes."

Everyone still seated at the table smiled—except for Lexie.

"Lexie, I assume you're volunteering for dish duty too?" queried Rick, feeling fairly sure of her response.

But she surprised everyone. "No, actually," she said. "If Maggie wouldn't mind keeping an eye on Trigger, I'd like to do a little work on the electrical system. With so many people here, the breakers keep tripping, but I think I might be able to squeeze a little more power out of the system . . . if Eugene could give me a hand in the attic?" She said this last bit like a question.

Eugene and Maggie readily agreed to the plan. Daryl kept his face expressionless.

"Then I guess it's my turn to help you with the dishes, Pookie," Carol said to Daryl, squeezing his cheeks. "And Sam can help us," she added as an afterthought as she caught sight of the boy trying to slip out of the room.

* * *

Up in the attic, Eugene and Lexie were deep in a discussion of voltage and relays when Daryl popped up through the trapdoor.

"What are you doing up here?" asked Lexie, sounding slightly miffed.

"Get out," Daryl growled at Eugene, who immediately scurried off as Daryl paced back and forth, picking at his lip.

"You're not supposed to be up here. It was the deal," Lexie asserted, her hands on her hips.

Daryl looked at her, but didn't say anything. Looking a little like a caged animal, he continued pacing anxiously with his eyes firmly fixed in her direction.

"Look," Lexie said more gently. "I'm sorry I couldn't do the dishes with you. I just . . . need to do other things until you all move on."

"I lied." The words seemed to burst out of Daryl as he stopped walking and turned toward her.

"Excuse me?" Lexie asked, confused.

"I lied, earlier today," Daryl said, resuming his pacing. "It wasn't just for the group that I wanted you to come with us."

Lexie's eyebrows narrowed as she waited for him to explain. After a few more laps back and forth, he figured out where to begin. "Look, back before, my brother Merle, he always had a girl, and when he didn't, or even if he did, there were hookers. I went with him sometimes, but it wasn't really my thing. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Trying to follow along, Lexie asked, "Do you mean you've never had a girlfriend?"

"It's not like I'm a virgin or nothin'," said Daryl. "But, no I never had a girlfriend. Didn't want one. And then, I met Aaron, and I thought maybe. . . ."

"You mean, you're gay?" asked Lexie, feeling more sure about the direction the conversation was heading now.

"No, I mean, maybe, I mean, I don't know," Daryl ran his fingers through his hair, then added suddenly, "You wouldn't tell anyone that, right?"

Lexie shook her head. "I don't know why it's a secret, though," she began, "Or why it's so hard to figure out." Her voice became more clinical. "It's really pretty simple. Are you attracted to men?"

"Maybe, sometimes. . . I don't know."

Lexie continued with her questioning, "Are you attracted to women?"

"Not usually," said Daryl. "Sometimes, though," he allowed. His voice grew angrier. "I just don't know." He took his lighter from his pocket and hurled it at the wall. "I'm a grown man, and I don't even know who I am."

"That's bullshit," said Lexie, irritated.

"Bullshit?" growled Daryl. "I thought I was getting shit figured out and then there you were. I can't even go out there any more without putting everyone in danger. I can't get my head straightened out." His voice was growing louder and louder.

"It's bullshit because you do know who you are," said Lexie, matching his volume. "You're the guy who sleeps on a lumpy couch instead of a soft bed in order to protect his friends on the off chance that some dead nuns happen to bust through three locked doors. You're the guy who volunteers any time something dangerous needs to be done. You're the guy that even when he screws up out there manages to get everyone back safely. You're the guy that when a scared, screwed up girl threatens to cut off your dick you don't get mad or even take the knife away, you just promise not to hurt her."

In her tirade, she had moved much closer to him, and he was no longer pacing. The two stared at each other, both breathing more heavily than normal.

Lexie continued, "No one does that, Daryl, not now. Not the way things are. You're the only one. So I do know who you are, and you do too. Figuring out if you're gay or straight or bi or whatever, that doesn't change who you are."

"It does," argued Daryl. "How can we be together if I haven't got this stuff figured out."

"Good grief, Daryl," replied Lexie, now feeling exasperated. "We're not talking about getting married here. I'm just talking about giving ourselves a chance to see if we're going to fall in love. If it turns out your gay, then fine, we'll know that, but at least I'll have gotten the chance to know you better."

"You can't mean that," said Daryl, incredulous, but no longer angry. "That you don't care if I'm. . . . like Aaron." He still couldn't say the word.

Lexie stepped closer. "Daryl, are you attracted to me?" she asked in nearly the same clinical voice she had used for her earlier questioning.

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Look at you," he said, gesturing with his arm. Lexie folded her arms and waited for an answer. "You know I am," he finally muttered.

"Then you aren't exactly the same as Aaron," she countered.

"But doesn't it bother you that I . . . have feelings like that."

"No!" said Lexie, as if the idea were ridiculous. "Does it bother you that I've had sex with women?" Lexie challenged him.

Daryl looked startled, and then the corners of his mouth turned up just a bit. "No," he said. "You've really had sex with women?" He looked interested in this idea.

Lexie saw his expression and smiled just a little. "I have a lot of lesbian friends. I tried it out. It wasn't for me. And I'm pretty sure that with a reaction like that, you may be more hetero than you think."

She leaned against one of the many tables stored in the attic. Daryl moved closer and half-sat on the table as well. He stared at the floor, not wanting to meet her eyes. Fidgeting a little with her hands, Lexie broke the silence. "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable today. Sometimes I'm too direct. After. . . after everything that's happened, I never expected to feel attracted to anyone again. And frankly, with the way things are, I could die any day. I didn't want to miss my chance. If you still need to think about things or if you don't want to do dishes together any more, I'll understand."

Lexie made a motion as if she were going to leave, but Daryl grabbed her hand. He looked her in the eye for a few moments. Then, abruptly, he grabbed her head with both hands and kissed her—hard. For a microsecond, Lexie froze, startled by the sudden kiss. Then her hands were on his chest, and she was kissing him back just as fiercely.

After about ten seconds, Daryl broke away, leaving them both gasping for breath.

"I'm sorry," he began, stepping back and running his hand through his hair. "I meant. . . to work up to that—to do it more gentle."

"Daryl Dixon," Lexie said quietly but sternly, stepping forward to close the space between them. "Don't you ever apologize for kissing me like you mean it. Not ever." As she whispered the last two words, she gently stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. She leaned in and kissed him again. It started more softly this time, the passion building as it went on.

Wondering if he should come back up to the attic yet, Eugene popped his head through the trapdoor. He caught an eyeful of Daryl and Lexie locked in an embrace before slinking back down the ladder with a smile on his face.

* * *

The recon team had pushed out about five miles and was swinging around in a wide arc. So far, it had been like every other patrol—no sign of the Wolves. Now they were on their way back.

"I want to stop by that gully Daryl and I found again," Michonne announced. Teams had been checking it every day, but so far they hadn't spotted anything unusual.

"It's on the way," agreed Abraham.

This time, as they approached the far end of the ditch, Glenn noticed something unusual. "What's that?" he asked.

For unknown reasons, two walkers were tied back to back. The awkward circumstance meant that they were both constantly fighting to be in the lead. They spun round and round, making little forward progress.

"What the hell?" wondered Abraham. Without speaking they all inched forward trying to get a closer look.

Heath was in the lead. "Ws!" he spat. "In both their heads."

The five friends took off at a run, following the edge of the gully. From time to time, they'd spot more walkers down below with the telltale Ws carved in their heads. Frighteningly, some were near the end of the ditch, just a few hundred yards from the tunnel that led to their sanctuary. They picked up the pace.

The group plunged into the mine entrance, Abraham leading the way. About ten steps in, they realized they had a problem: they weren't alone in the tunnel. Walkers blocked the way. With his knife, Abraham quickly took out two, but there were more-lots more.

"Turn around," he yelled," I don't know how many are in here. We'll have to go around to the front door. No choice."

Everyone did an about-face in the tight confines. Now Michonne was leading the way, followed by Heath, Glenn, and Rosita with Abraham bringing up the rear.

But there were walkers in that direction as well. Michonne drew her sword, but there was little room to maneuver in the mine shaft. She took out three walkers, but it slowed them down. Meanwhile, the others were closing in behind them. Rosita heard Abraham groan.

"Abraham!" she yelled, not able to see what had happened in the dim light.

"I'm fine, keep going," he hollered. She obeyed, but Abraham wasn't fine. Blood seeped from his side where he had been bitten.

Finally working their way free of the tunnel, Michonne, Heath, Glenn, and Rosita took off on a run towards the front entrance to the convent. Lagging behind, Abraham fought off one last walker, then pressed his hand to his side and tried to catch up as best he could. The woods were full of walkers now, and Michonne kept her sword out, slicing through at least a dozen heads. Behind her, the others each fought off two or three with their shorter knives.

By the time they reached the front gate, Abraham was panting and bleeding heavily. A larger herd was coming up toward the front walk. Michonne paused only a second to fling the gate open before turning her attention to the walkers inside. The others followed on her heels. Abraham closed the gate, kicking one last walker out of the way before closing the iron gate and taking his place in the formation. They quickly fought their way toward the front door.

Up on the third floor, the open gate set off the alarm. Rick rushed to the window and peered outside. In less than a second, he headed down the stairs two at a time. In the office, he hit buttons madly trying to find the music. A few seconds later, Lexie burst in and flicked the right switches. Rick waited only a few heartbeats to be sure the walkers inside were headed up to the second floor before bolting out of the office and heading for the front door.

The recon team dashed for the office with Rick supporting Abraham. Lexie closed the door behind them and then cut the music as they all headed downstairs toward the basement dining hall.

Outside, dead walkers littered the walkway and grass leading up to the door. The remnants of the herd that had seen the recon team run inside pressed themselves against the wrought iron fence. It was holding—for the time being—but it wouldn't last for long. Even with the music off, the sound of the walkers was drawing more of their kind. Around the corner, one of the Wolves sat in a tree, binoculars trained on the front gate. He smiled to himself before loping off to find the rest of the pack.

* * *

Inside, Abraham was trying mightily to prevent the rest of the group from examining his wound. In the end, Daryl, Heath, Rick, and Glenn each grabbed an arm or a leg while Carol and Rosita lifted up his shirt to see the damage.

They knew instantly that it was a bite. Abraham stopped struggling, and the other men let him go. Rosita alternated between sobbing and yelling at him with an occasional punch in the shoulder thrown in. For his part, Abraham remained stoic, his composure broken only slightly when he used his thumb to brush away a tear. The rest of the group looked stricken. Several, including Rick, sank to the floor. There was nothing to say.

Abraham was the first to speak. "Rick," he said, "we found something important—more important than mourning my idiocy. Walkers with the W in their foreheads."

Rick looked to Michonne for confirmation. "It's true. They were in that gully leading up to this place. The Wolves are catching up."

"And there were walkers in the tunnel," put in Heath. "We couldn't get back that way."

"With the dead bodies on the grounds, it's just a matter of time before the Wolves know we're here," concluded Rick. "If they don't know it already."

"We should run," Lexie offered without hesitation. "There's another tunnel, I can get us out."

"But if we keep running, the Wolves are going to follow," said Rick. "It's time to take care of this problem once and for all."

* * *

It took several hours to put Rick's plan in motion, but when the Wolves arrived in the late afternoon, the group was ready. With danger so near, Lexie had readily shown them the second, secret tunnel entrance in the basement. She was leaving with them—the only other option was to leave without them, and she couldn't do that now. Carol, Jessie, Lexie, and Maggie took Sam, Trigger, and Judith down into the tunnel for safety. Abraham sat at the entrance. He was starting to grow feverish, but he was determined to do his part. By his side were Eugene, Carl, and Ron; they would serve as the last line of defense in case something went wrong. On the top floor, Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Rosita, Aaron, and Heath each sat by a window, rifles ready. Down on the first floor, Michonne and Tara waited to do their part.

The Wolves brought several captives, hooded and tied back to back, to use as bait. They sliced through the bellies of the first two and then left them on the ground a good distance from the fence. Within minutes, their cries had drawn most of the walkers outside the fence. The dead launched themselves into the feast, paying no attention to the Wolves, who efficiently dragged several more captives inside the fence.

There they repeated the maneuver twice more, drawing the nuns and schoolgirls still wandering on the grounds to the two far corners of the fenced-in area. That left the path to the main building clear. With grins on their faces, the entire pack of Wolves dashed for the front entrance.

From the upper windows, rifles began firing. The Wolves ran more erratically trying to evade the gunfire. Several fell, but dozens remained on their feet, heading purposefully toward the main door.

In the front office, Tara waited, crouching behind the countertop partition, praying that none of the Wolves would see her. Michonne was down the hall, stationed outside a large classroom. As Tara heard the alarm signal that the first of the Wolves was inside, she began counting down from twenty. The seconds ticked by, and Wolves poured into the front hallway. Tara could hear them formulating a plan for clearing the floors. She tightened her grip on her revolver.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

A hand jiggled the office doorknob. It was locked, but that wouldn't keep anyone out for long. In a second, someone would come bursting through. She couldn't wait any longer. Tara flicked a switch, hoping against hope that most of the Wolves had made it inside.

Choir music began playing in the first floor entryway at maximum volume. The signal given, Michonne flung open the classroom door and then hid herself behind it, her sword ready for any walker who came her way. None did. As one, a huge mass of walkers headed for the entryway, directly for the Wolves.

Her part done, Tara headed out the door that led from the office to the back stairway, pausing to lock and barricade the door, nailing a few pieces of wood into the frame.

With the walkers all headed the other direction, Michonne escaped out a window. She quickly scaled the rope ladder Glenn had lowered from the third floor.

Confused at first by the music, the Wolves froze in place. But as soon as the walkers appeared from around the corner, they understood what was happening—after all, they had set traps like this themselves. Two were close enough to the office to make it inside before the herd arrived. They broke open the door and ran inside, pushing the door closed with their body weight. Several others dashed back out the front door, but Rick, Daryl, and Heath were still manning their rifles. They easily picked off those who tried to escape.

Those who remained inside and hadn't made it to the office took the only other path available—the stairway leading up. The walkers followed, cutting off any potential escape.

When no more Wolves came out the front door, the members of Rick's group on the third floor sprinted for the back stairs. Heedless of the noise, they ran down as fast as they could.

All seemed to be going according to plan. At the mouth of the tunnel, Rick paused to count heads. Someone was missing.

"Where's Tara?" Rick asked.

"She never came down," volunteered Carl.

"Everyone, into the tunnel," ordered Rick. "I'll go get her. Abraham, anyone comes down those stairs, you take 'em out."

Eugene spoke up. "I'm coming with you," he announced stoutly.

"We don't have time for this, Eugene! Go!" Rick yelled.

Eugene obeyed grudgingly, but Rick didn't even make it to the stairs before he was stopped. The leader of the Wolves was slowly descending, a pistol trained on Tara's head.

"So this is where the rabbits ran off to," he said in a singsong voice. "Now, drop your weapons," he continued addressing Rick and Abraham.

Rick slowly laid his rifle on the ground, and Abraham followed his lead.

"That's right, little rabbits," cooed the Wolf. "That was a good try up there, but not quite good enough." Several more Wolves were walking down the stairs now, wiping their knives. "And now we see where your escape tunnel is."

Unbeknownst to anyone in the room, Eugene hadn't followed Rick's instructions completely. He was inside the tunnel, but just barely. He could see everything that was happening in the room. His hands shook as he realized that he was the only member of their group that was still armed. Only he could save Tara.

In the dim light of the dining room, the Wolves were baring their teeth. The leader was still talking, but any moment he would decide to kill Tara. Eugene raised his gun, and while doing the best to steady his aim, squeezed the trigger.

The bullet hit the Wolf in the hip. Eugene had been aiming for his head, but at least he hadn't hit Tara. Rick and Abraham, their instincts honed by the non-stop fight for survival, reacted instantly, diving for their guns at the same second. Tara took off running for the tunnel entrance as both men opened fire.

"Go, Rick!" yelled Abraham. "I got this!" Several more Wolves fell.

Rick followed Tara into the tunnel, pausing only to clap Abraham on the shoulder as he passed. Within a few feet, they both met up with Eugene, who looked badly shaken.

"Was that you?" Tara asked him, incredulous.

"If you are referring to the gunshot that took out the man who held you captive, yes, I believe it was," Eugene replied.

"We gotta get out of here," Rick reminded them. "Eugene, do the honors."

Eugene picked up the detonator that lay on the floor and pressed it once. A timer flashed to life. They had ten seconds. The three set off at a run. They had just reached the others when they heard the explosions start behind them. Worried about a cave-in, everyone started jogging more quickly down the tunnel, which was lit only by their flashlights.

Within a minute the dust had cleared. Rosita grabbed Rick's arm. "Abraham?" she asked.

"It was the way he wanted to go out," Rick said, knowing how little comfort the words offered. Rosita nodded, eyes streaming tears. Tara put her arm around her friend, and they headed off together into the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Island

**The Island**

The tunnel was longer than most of the group had anticipated, but at least they didn't have to crawl. It ended with a ladder that led to a manhole cover. "What's up there?" Rick asked Lexie.

"Post office distribution center," she replied. "The manhole cover locks from this side, and it's heavy. When you push it up, you'll come up underneath a semi-truck. There are two in the warehouse, both are loaded with supplies and full of gas. But there are some walkers up there-for camouflage."

"More camouflage," said Rick wryly. Lexie shrugged a little in response.

"How many?" he asked her.

"Four or five last time I was here," she said.

"All right, it's nothing we can't handle," said Rick. "Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, you come with me. We'll take out the walkers. When we give the all-clear, everyone else can follow."

Mopping up the walkers took only a few minutes. The group climbed out of the tunnel and began investigating the trucks.

"I'd recommend we take both trucks to start, drive till they are half empty," suggested Lexie. "Then we can transfer the rest of the gas and supplies from one truck to the other. That gets us farther down the road."

"OK," said Rick, "But where are we going?"

Everyone had an idea. Some liked the idea of the coast. Others argued for the Midwest, where there might be fewer people. Eventually, Lexie spoke up.

"I know a place," she said. "It was where I planned to go if things went bad at St. Mary's. It's a vacation house on an island in the middle of a river. It's isolated, defensible. We could get there on the gas we have, and then plan our next move."

It seemed like the best plan to Rick, and everyone else followed his lead. "Daryl," said Rick, "you drive one of these, I'll drive the other. Everyone else, climb in back."

As everyone scattered, Daryl motioned to Lexie. "Wanna ride shotgun?"

She looked down at Trigger who was squirming in her arms. "Let me take him," said Michonne. She tickled the wriggling toddler then hoisted him up to her shoulders, heading for the back of the rig. "Have fun," she called back over her shoulder.

"Do I actually get to have a shotgun?" asked Lexie.

"If you want one," said Daryl. "Have you ever actually shot a shotgun before?"

"No," admitted Lexie. "The six bullets I had in that handgun where the only six shots I've ever fired in my life. I was out of ammo when I had that gun on Rick."

"Seriously?" asked Daryl, incredulous. "How are you even still alive?"

"Excuse me," retorted Lexie. "I believe it's due to my tunnel and my trucks that you're alive."

"Yeah," said Daryl, sounding more serious than Lexie had. She could see that he was thinking of Abraham. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"What was that for?" he asked, curious.

"I'm just glad you're still alive," she told him, tears in her eyes. He reached over and tousled her hair, and then it was time to back the rig up and get on the road.

* * *

When they finally reached the turnoff for the island house, they were down to about a quarter of a tank of gas in the one remaining truck, and night was approaching fast. They decided to camp beside the road for the night and head for the house in the morning. Jessie, Lexie, Sam, and the babies bedded down in the back of the truck, and everyone else found a spot on the ground. They took turns on watch, but the night was uneventful—if a little bit colder than anyone would have liked.

In the morning, Lexie informed them that they had about a two mile walk down the dirt track to get to the spot where she hoped to find a boat. Everyone loaded up on supplies and hit the trail.

"How do you know about this place anyway?" Rick asked Lexie.

"It belonged to a professor I knew in the university," she told him. "He used to bring female students out here for 'tutoring sessions.'"

"He brought you out here?" asked Daryl.

"No, I came to rescue a friend once. She had second thoughts about staying after she got out here and called me. I gave her a ride back to campus."

"Professor sounds like an asshole," said Daryl.

"He wasn't my favorite," Lexie replied.

Luck was with them. A rowboat was still tied to the dock where Lexie had remembered. It would take several trips to ferry them all across, but they could make the trip.

The house was beautiful—three stories, plenty of windows, porches, and balconies all around. It seemed deserted, but Rick, Daryl, and Michonne went in first to make sure. They found two walkers—one still wearing a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows, and one who might once have been a pretty young coed. There was no telling how they had died, but it appeared to have happened long ago.

Everyone set to work cleaning out the house, bringing in supplies, scavenging for whatever else they could find, and claiming rooms for sleeping. Maggie found Daryl in an elegant bedroom that had a separate sitting area with a table and chairs that looked over the water.

"This is nice," she said.

"Yeah," agreed Daryl, seeming distracted. Maggie looked at him expectantly, but he didn't say anything. Michonne walked in as well. "What a view," she enthused. "You claiming this one, Daryl?"

"Maybe," said Daryl, staring at the table.

"It would be a real nice spot for a candlelight dinner," teased Michonne.

Daryl still looked contemplative, but eventually he spoke up. "So if we're saying that Christmas was about a week ago, doesn't that mean today could be New Year's Eve?"

Catching on, the two women smiled at each other. "It could be," agreed Maggie.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to set, and Daryl was standing in another bedroom looking very uncomfortable in a crisp, white dress shirt. Rick walked into the room carrying a selection of three ties. "Your hair's wet," Rick observed. "How did you manage to get a shower?"

"Didn't," said Daryl, "I jumped in the river."

"It must be like 40 degrees," said Rick, aghast.

"Yeah, no kidding." Daryl pointed to one of the ties Rick was holding. "I'll take the red one."

"You're sure you want to go through with this?" questioned Rick.

"Just help me tie the damn tie," Daryl replied.

In another room down the hall, Lexie sat nursing Judith while Jessie fussed over her hair and makeup. "I still don't understand what all this is for," protested Lexie.

"I just thought I would repay you for letting us use your spa," Jessie explained. "I feel bad that you had to leave everything behind." She swiped Lexie's eyelashes with mascara and then adjusted a stray lock of hair.

"Look," said Maggie, pirouetting out of a closet holding up a red dress in front of her. "Your professor friend may have been a little creepy, but he left behind some great dresses to go with that makeup. You should wear this one tonight."

Lexie was starting to feel suspicious. "Something's going on," she said.

"We'll never tell," Maggie replied as Jessie grinned.

It only took about fifteen minutes for the mystery to be revealed. Aaron showed up to escort Lexie to the room Daryl had picked out earlier in the day. "Mademoiselle, welcome to Chez Dixon," Aaron proclaimed, swinging the door open.

Now wearing a short red cocktail dress and high heels, Lexie took in the scene. A table for two was set with fine china and candles in front of windows overlooking the river. Daryl stood off to one side, looking slightly nervous, uncomfortable, and unusually clean in a shirt and tie obviously taken from the house. Lexie's eyes widened, and her face slowly spread into a grin. "Chez Dixon?" she asked.

Daryl fidgeted a bit. "I thought you might like, you know, a real date," he offered by way of explanation. "Everyone helped."

"I would love a real date," Lexie murmured quietly, her eyes now beaming. "Thank you."

"Happy New Year!" said Aaron, as he popped the cork on a bottle of champagne. "I'll just pour this and get out of your way."

Neither Daryl or Lexie were paying any attention to him at all as he slipped out of the room and joined the rest of the group in the kitchen where they were waiting to hear a report about how the date was going.

Remembering manners he never knew he had learned, Daryl pulled out Lexie's chair for her. "Daryl, you didn't have to do all this," she told him as she sat.

"I wanted to," he said firmly.

"You wanted to wear a tie?" she questioned, incredulous.

"Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time," he said, tugging at it a little.

The two talked and laughed through dinner, lingering over their food and champagne as they watched the sky darken. Someone had even provided a fancy dessert, which appeared to be Twinkies with a little chocolate syrup drizzled over them. At last they were forced to admit that dinner was over. Lexie put her hand over Daryl's. "Thank you," she said. "This was really great."

"You're welcome," said gruffly, nodding. He stood as he added, "Aaron said to come get him and he would take the dishes when we were done."

"OK," Lexie agreed. "I'm gonna go outside a minute, see the stars and the river." She didn't want to be there when Aaron came in.

Aaron handled his busboy duties quickly, all the while admonishing Daryl to go outside with Lexie. When Aaron left, Daryl obeyed, walking up behind Lexie and tentatively wrapping his arms around her waist. He said nothing for a moment as he breathed in the scent of her hair.

"It's nice out here," he observed.

"Yeah," agreed Lexie. "Lots of stars. It's getting colder though."

"We can go back in," offered Daryl.

Lexie spun herself in his arms so that she was now facing him with his arms around her back. "In a minute," she said. "There's something I want to do first." She leaned in, and they kissed, slowly and gently.

When it ended, Daryl began looking uncomfortable again. "What's wrong?" asked Lexie.

"I—" he began and stopped. Lexie continued looking at him, concerned and perplexed. "If you want—" he started and stopped again. He let go of her and began pacing. Still confused she wrapped her arms herself to keep warm. "It's, we—"

Lexie was running out of patience. "Daryl, whatever it is, can we go inside? I really am cold."

"Yeah," he said glumly and began stomping off to the door. Lexie followed. The romantic mood from earlier had disappeared nearly completely, and Lexie still had no idea what was wrong.

"Here," said Daryl handing her a sport coat. "Aaron said I should wear it, but it didn't fit."

Lexie smiled at the thought of Daryl in a suit. "I still can't believe you wore a tie," she said, a laugh in her voice.

"I wanted things to be nice for you," he said, sitting down on the bed. "You lost your home because of us. A tie seemed like the least I could do."

"I lost a place to live, but I got so much more in return," Lexie said sincerely. "I never imagined that there were still people like this, that things could be—" Full of emotion, her voice trailed off. She walked over and sat next to Daryl on the bed. Reaching up, she stroked his cheek and said very softly, "Thank you."

Daryl nodded then stood and took a deep breath, seeming to find his courage. "What I was trying to say before was we could stay here tonight. You and I, I mean—if you want. The other women said they'd watch the babies, so I mean, there won't be anything to interrupt us or nothin'—but only if you want to, I mean. . . . God, I didn't want this to sound so stupid ."

It sounded like he could have gone on stammering for a while, but Lexie interrupted him, standing and placing her fingers over his mouth. "Daryl," she said gently, "yes."

And then they were kissing again, but this time the kissing didn't stop. It only grew more passionate as Lexie removed his tie and began working through the buttons on his shirt as quickly as she could. As she pressed up against his bare chest, he reached behind her and unzipped her dress. As it fell to the floor, his lips moved to her neck and then her shoulders. He lingered for a second on a knife scar there—a reminder of the time she'd spent as a prisoner. Then his lips moved down her arm and found the ridges of skin on her wrists where they had been rubbed raw by her handcuffs. Continuing to explore her body, he found all the marks left by past pain—even the stretch marks on her belly. To Lexie, it seemed like he was accepting—even blessing—all the parts of herself she hated most.

When he had finished, it was her turn. She ran her hands across his chest and over his shoulders, finally fully removing the white shirt he had been wearing. She nearly gasped when she saw the scars that crisscrossed his back, which she knew were left over from childhood. His arms and torso were crisscrossed with so many marks, both old and new, that she didn't know where to begin. So she simply smiled at him and began kissing his shoulders, working her way across his back and arms then around again to the front of his chest.

Then he placed his hand under her chin, lifting her lips back to his. Surprising her a bit, he reached down and picked her up in his arms. She laughed just for a second or two, and he smiled down at her before placing her gently on the bed.

* * *

It was well after midnight when Carol came back inside the house. Her turn on watch over, she headed down the hall, walking past the room next to Daryl and Lexie's, which had been turned into a makeshift nursery for the babies. With the door open, she could see Jessie inside sitting on a rocking chair inside, awake but looking sleepy.

"Jessie, why are you still up?" she asked.

"I wanted to be close in case Judith or Trigger woke up," Jessie explained. "After everything Lexie's done, she and Daryl deserve some alone time."

"I think you and Rick could probably use some alone time too," said Carol, teasingly. "Go on upstairs. I'll stay in here with the babies."

Jessie attempted a feeble protest. "Are you sure?" she asked, covering a yawn.

"I'm sure. Now, get out of here," Carol added with a smile.

With Jessie gone, Carol walked over to where Trigger was sleeping in a dresser drawer that was serving as his bed. For a long time, she contemplated. Was Lexie really a threat or was she just imagining things? Normally she would trust Daryl's judgment, but in this case, he clearly wasn't thinking objectively. And Rick wasn't much better-after Lexie had nursed Judith, he was convinced that she could do no wrong.

But Carol wasn't convinced. To her, Lexie seemed like a master manipulator. For now, Lexie was supporting the group, but Carol had no illusions that as soon as things went bad, Lexie would have only two concerns: herself and her child. Daryl was too trusting; Carol doubted he had even considered the idea that Lexie was only playing him. He was obviously one of the strongest fighters in the group, and Carol considered it highly likely that Lexie was only in the relationship because of the potential safety Daryl offered.

But how to make Daryl see all of that? She would have to move carefully to avoid pushing him away. Looking down at the sleeping baby, Carol said quietly, "I think a little interruption might be just the thing." At first she tried nudging the baby gently, but he was a sound sleeper. Tickling his feet caused him to stir a little, but nothing more. Although she didn't like the idea, Carol reached down and pinched the baby fat on his chubby little legs—not hard, just enough to make him squeal, which he did. When he seemed to be settling back down again, she pinched his other leg, and the volume intensified. Rather than comfort the baby, she just stood nearby, listening and waiting.

Within a few minutes, she heard the sound she had been waiting for. The door to the bedroom next door creaked open. Quickly, Carol picked up Trigger and began making soft hushing sounds.

Lexie slipped into the room. Carol frowned when she noticed Lexie was wearing only the white shirt Daryl had on earlier, but she quickly covered her displeasure with a fake smile. "I've been trying to settle him down, but I think he wants his mama in here with him," Carol said with an apologetic drawl, handing over the baby. "Do you want to use the rocking chair?"

"No," said Lexie. "I'll take him back next door and feed him. I don't want Daryl to wonder where I am if he wakes up. You can go on up to bed. I've got it."

Carol had hoped for a bigger interruption, but she hoped this would be enough to dial down the romance at least a little bit. She would have to look for more opportunities to get Daryl to see reason. With no more excuses for hanging out in the nursery, she headed upstairs, her thoughts churning.

Trigger calmed almost immediately once he was in his mother's arms. Lexie carried him back to her bedroom and settled in an overstuffed armchair near the bed to feed him. Smiling a little, she watched Daryl sleep. He looked so much more peaceful and younger when he was sleeping.

She and Trigger were both starting to doze off in the chair when Daryl woke with a start. "I'm right here," Lexie said quietly, knowing that he was looking for her.

"So much for your night off," he said a little gruffly.

"I got the most important part of the night off," Lexie said, smiling.

She looked down at Trigger, trying to decide if he was done nursing or not. Daryl watched her feed the baby, no longer feeling shy about being nearby while her breast was exposed. "What does that feel like?" he wondered aloud.

"Pretty much exactly like you would expect it to feel," Lexie laughed. "Remind me to suck on your nipples sometime and you can see for yourself."

Daryl chuckled a little and rolled over onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling a while before saying, "This changes everything, you know."

Lexie was confused. "Feeding the baby changes everything?"

"No," said Daryl, as if she had just said something incredibly stupid. "You know, this," he said gesturing back and forth at the two of them.

"You mean, having sex changes everything?" Lexie asked, still perplexed.

"No," he said, growing impatient with her misunderstanding. "Are you gonna make me say it?"

"Daryl, I have no idea what you're talking about."

He looked at her, his face exasperated for a moment, then softening. "Falling in love with you changes everything," he said simply. Lexie's jaw dropped a little and tears sprang to her eyes as Daryl continued. "It's like there's a point now. The world's just so fucked up and awful, and then there's something like this. . . . It's like it changes the whole world," he finished, feeling like he hadn't really expressed what he'd meant to say.

Without a word, Lexie stood up and left the room. Daryl propped himself up on his elbows in bed. "Lex?" he hissed, wondering if he had somehow pissed her off without meaning to.

She returned in seconds, apparently having put Trigger back in his bed. She quickly closed the door and clambered back into bed. She climbed on top of Daryl, straddling him.

A little surprised, Daryl looked at her, a smile playing on his lips. "What's this about?" he asked.

"You amaze me," she said simply. "And I'm falling in love with you too."

She leaned over to kiss him, as he sat up, meeting her halfway. He reached down to her bare hips and pulled them closer to him as they picked up again where they had left off earlier.


	6. Chapter 6 - The Storm

**The Storm**

Everyone took their time getting up and moving the next day—almost as if it really were a holiday. When Rick finally wandered outside, Heath was on watch on the south side of the river. A huge flock of birds took off heading east as Rick approached.

"There's been a lot of that—birds taking off like that," commented Heath. "Couple of walkers wandering by too."

"We might be in for some bad weather," said Rick, looking at the clouds to the west. "We'll be glad to have four walls and roof tonight."

As the two of them looked to the far side of the river, a walker took a step off the bank into the water. Emerging seemingly from nowhere, Daryl was there beside Rick, his crossbow aimed at the dead man. "Hold up," said Rick. "Let's see what happens."

The walker took a step and then another. By this time, it was up to its waist in water, and it couldn't stay upright any longer. As the current took over and washed it downstream, a second walker, a woman, came out of the woods. Seeing the other walker headed downriver, she turned east and followed along the shore.

"We're safe enough for now," said Rick as Daryl lowered his crossbow. "That river could be even better protection than walls and fences."

"Do you think we'll be able to set up a base here for a while?" asked Heath.

Rick nodded his head noncommittally. "At least until that storm blows over."

Daryl spoke up. "I'll take a turn on watch. I don't like it that so many walkers are headin' this way."

"Are you sure you're up for it?" teased Rick. "Not too tired after last night?" He and Heath smiled conspiratorially.

"Shut up," said Daryl. "You're the one should be worried about gettin' tired, old man."

* * *

The day passed quietly with everyone finding a few chores to keep them a little busy—along with plenty of time to rest and mourn the loss of Abraham. Tara and Eugene kept Rosita company most of the day, and for once, even Eugene mostly kept quiet and let her grieve. Glenn and Maggie discussed the coming baby, even daring to wonder aloud if the island house could be a good place for the birth. From a distance, Carol kept an eye on Lexie and Daryl, who spent most of the afternoon watching Trigger play in the dirt on the riverbank. To everyone else, the trio looked like the picture of a happy family enjoying an afternoon outdoors, but Carol still had her doubts about Lexie.

The clouds continued to build in the west, and the wind picked up intensity as the day wore on. By instinct, everyone could feel the coming storm, and it made them all just a little bit edgy. Jessie and Aaron bickered over what to make for dinner, and Carol snapped at everyone who spoke to her. Judith and Trigger both got fussy, so Lexie spent extra time nursing them both.

It didn't help that walkers continued to trickle up to the southern bank of the river in ones and twos. None made it any farther than waist deep in the river, but Rick assigned an extra person to watch that side of the island, just in case.

By the time dinner rolled around, the wind was beginning to howl, and the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees. Everyone ate dinner together, feeling grateful for their shelter, but nervous about what the night might bring.

When Rick starting making assignments for the overnight watch, Daryl volunteered right away for the first shift. His relationship with Lexie had made him feel more protective than ever, and he still didn't like the way the walkers were popping out of the woods so regularly.

He went back to the bedroom where he'd slept the previous night to scrounge for some warmer clothes, and Lexie trailed along behind. "Be careful," she whispered when they were alone.

"It's just watch," said Daryl.

"I know, but something doesn't feel right," she said.

"Come 'ere," said Daryl, pulling her in for a reassuring embrace and kissing the top of her head.

After a few seconds, Lexie pulled away just a bit and looked up at him. "You'll come back here—to sleep—when your watch is done?" she asked, a little shyly.

"Yeah," he replied, smiling slightly. He cupped his hands around her face and leaned in close. Their lips were less than a centimeter apart, but for the longest time they didn't kiss—instead just enjoying the closeness.

A noise from out in the hall shattered the moment. Daryl kissed Lexie quickly. "I'll be back before you know it," he promised.

* * *

Carol had volunteered for the same watch as Daryl. The two of them watched the south side of the river while Aaron patrolled to the north.

"So you and Lexie. . . " Carol half-said and half-asked, still working on her plan to get Daryl to see Lexie for what she was.

"Yeah," said Daryl.

Straight to the point, Carol said, "I don't like it. I thought you agreed she could be a threat."

"She was a threat because she was scared," replied Daryl. "She ain't scared no more."

"She's not afraid of you," corrected Carol, "but she'd leave the rest of us behind in a minute if she and Trigger were in danger."

A little offended, Daryl replied, "She helped all of us get away from the Wolves when she coulda just run, and she's nursin' a baby that isn't even hers. What more do you want from her?"

"Not all of us got away," said Carol softly.

"No," agreed Daryl, thinking of Abraham.

"And I just don't think she's good enough for you," Carol blurted out. "You could do better."

Daryl stared at Carol as if she'd gone crazy. "She's the best damn person I ever met. If anything, I'm not good enough for her."

"I still don't trust her," argued Carol.

Daryl accepted that, but the two didn't talk much more until their watch was done.

When Daryl crept into bed beside Lexie, she woke up almost immediately, drawing a breath in sharply. "You're so cold," she said, wrapping her arms around him.

"Yeah, it's snowing harder than I've ever seen before," he replied.

Lexie climbed out of bed and walked over to the window, pulling aside the curtains to peer outside. The wind howled, bending small trees nearly double and pushing torrents of white flakes in front of it. "Wow, it's really coming down," she observed.

"Yeah, it's a good night to be indoors," agreed Daryl, shivering under the blankets.

Lexie crawled back under the covers, pulling herself close to Daryl and rubbing his arms to warm him up. "Are the walkers still coming?" she asked.

"Still just a few at a time," said Daryl. "I think the wind might actually be blowing some of them to the east."

"At least the storm's good for something," Lexie replied. She wrapped her hands around his trying to infuse them with some heat. "You need to warm up," she observed matter-of-factly. She pulled her shirt over her head and started untucking his shirt and unfastening his pants.

"If I need to warm up, why are you trying to take my clothes off?" asked Daryl.

Lexie persisted. "Everyone knows that the best way to prevent someone from freezing to death is to put two naked bodies in the same sleeping bag." She pulled her shirt over her head.

"I not gonna freeze to death," he objected.

"Well, then, I guess I can put my clothes back on," she teased.

"Better safe than sorry," he replied, pulling the covers up over both of them as he kissed her.

Several hours later, when the two of them were once again bundled up in several layers of clothes, something woke Daryl. He opened his eyes to see a face just inches from his own. He reached for the knife on the bedside table before realizing it wasn't a walker.

"Trigger?" he asked.

The toddler nodded in the darkness.

Daryl rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. "What are you doing in here, little man? It's bedtime." Trigger didn't reply and instead put his thumb in his mouth.

"Are you hungry? Do you need your mom to feed you?" Daryl whispered, not wanting to wake Lexie unless he needed to.

Trigger vigorously shook his head no.

A particularly strong gust of wind howled outside, rattling the windows in their casings and causing one of the trees outside to scrape against the house. Trigger's body tensed, and his thumb slipped out of his mouth as his eyes grew wide.

"You scared of the storm?" Daryl asked. Trigger nodded and, taking the question as an invitation, he crawled over Daryl and burrowed under the covers between Daryl and Lexie. The toddler closed his eyes immediately and plopped his thumb back in his mouth. Daryl scratched his beard, unsure whether to wake Lexie or not.

"Lex," he said in a voice just louder than a whisper. She didn't respond. For a moment Daryl watched the mother and son sleep, and then he lay back down and closed his eyes as well.

* * *

Michonne squinted into the darkness and swirls of snow, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Pushed by the storm, a small group of walkers was headed her way from the southeast, and they seemed to be walking on top of the water. The one in the lead suddenly went down, not just falling but disappearing, and Michonne realized what was happening. "Heath," she called over the noise of the wind, "Go wake Rick. The river's freezing."

Alarmed, Heath sped into the house and returned quickly with Rick. "Do we need to leave?" Rick asked Michonne, yelling to make himself heard.

"Not yet, but soon, unless this weather changes," she replied. "Problem is the boat's froze."

Concerned about losing their only means of escape, Rick rushed over to the small rowboat that had carried them all to the island. Even though the river was still open in the middle of the channel to the south, the boat was frozen solid and no amount of pushing or pulling at it was going to dislodge it until the temperature climbed.

"Stay here and watch out for those walkers! Make sure none get across!" Rick called loudly. "I'll wake the others!"

He sprinted through the house, pounding on doors and telling everyone to get up and get ready to leave. Instantly alert, Daryl stopped Rick in the hallway. "What's goin' on?"

"The river's freezing, and walkers are headed this way. The boat's frozen, so we have no way out of here," Rick summarized. "Take Glenn and scout around the island, see if you can find a way to the north side."

"You got it," agreed Daryl. He dashed back into the bedroom to grab his bow. "I'll find us a way out of here," he reassured Lexie, who had overheard Rick and now looked terrified. "I'll keep you safe," he added, kissing her forehead swiftly before leaving.

Lexie began the process of getting everything packed up and bundling Trigger against the cold. Moving on without an escape plan had her very anxious. But she knew that she couldn't let her son see her worry, so she put on a fake smile and pretended it was all a game.

For the others, this process was all too familiar. Within moments, most had their bags ready, and several soon joined those outside who were preparing to fight.

Daryl and Glenn went crashing through the underbrush on the north side of the island. The river was deeper and faster on this side, and there wasn't as much ice along the shore. The storm had transformed the landscape. Trees and bushes glistened, having been coated with ice and then topped with snow. Branches small and large had fallen to the ground from the added weight of the precipitation, and several trees had toppled in the wind. Near the northeast end of the island, Daryl found the salvation he had been looking for. A huge tree had toppled, pulling up from its roots, so that it nearly spanned the north channel of the river. "We can get across this," Daryl told Glenn. "There isn't but a foot or two to jump at the end."

Back at the house, things were looking grim. The herd of walkers crossing from the south bank was growing, and with the storm still raging, more of the river was freezing with each passing second. The group was firing at the walkers, hoping they would fall together, their combined weight breaking through the ice. For a while the technique worked, but the pile of corpses on the bottom of the river was growing. Eventually, they piled high enough to allow some of the walkers to stagger through the open water and thin ice in the center of the channel and crawl back onto the solid ice closer to the island.

Just as the situation began looked hopeless, Daryl and Glenn ran up. "There's a way across the north side," Glenn announced to Rick while gasping for air.

"A down tree," added Daryl.

"That's our only shot," said Rick before calling to the group. "Let's go! Follow Daryl and Glenn. Michonne and I will cover the rear. Carol, get the rest from the house."

Everyone sprang into motion, most heading for the north side of the island while Carol sprinted for the house. Maggie, Jessie, and Lexie had stayed indoors with Sam and the babies, ready to make a last stand if needed. Bursting inside, Carol yelled, "Jessie, Maggie, Sam, bring Judith and follow me." Lexie made a move to follow with Trigger as well, but Carol, seeing an unexpected opportunity to eliminate a potential threat to the group, stopped her. "Daryl's coming," Carol lied. "Stay put so he finds you and doesn't waste time looking." _They'll be fine in the house_ , Carol told herself. _When Daryl figures out she stayed behind, he'll think she got scared and ran. He'll realize it was best for the group._

Lexie nodded. It seemed a little strange, but she didn't want Daryl to get left behind because he was looking for her. She watched the rest of the women and children head out the back door on the east side of the house and then stayed to watch, hoping that Daryl would come from that direction.

Seeing the women emerge from the house, Rick and Michonne took out a few more walkers before turning and running behind them. Out of ammo, Michonne had pulled her sword, and Rick expected to need his knife any minute. Assuming that Carol had gotten everyone out of the house, he didn't bother to count heads.

By the time they made it to the downed tree, most of the first arrivals had already made it to the far side. "Oh, thank God," Glenn said as Maggie arrived, pulling her in for a hug as Carol started across. Glenn helped Maggie onto the tree and then followed behind to steady her. Jessie and Sam came next, and Rick took Judith, preparing to cross.

By this time, Daryl had noticed that not everyone was there. "Where's Lexie and Trigger?" he asked Carol.

"She was waiting for you," Carol replied. Daryl moved to cross back over the tree, but Carol grabbed his arm. "You can't go back now," she said, "at least not until everyone is across."

"Lexie!" Daryl roared, hoping against hope that she would hear him and run for the tree.

Back at the house, things were looking desperate. Walkers had made it to the front door, and although it was locked, the glass in the window seemed ready to give any moment. From her spot at the back door, it seemed a few walkers were starting to head into the brush on the north side of the island where everyone else had gone as well. She didn't want to leave without Daryl, but Lexie knew she was out of time. With Trigger in a carrier slung on her back, she grabbed the gun Daryl had left her and headed the direction she had seen everyone else travel, barely pausing to fire at the walkers in her way.

At the tree, the first few walkers from the herd were beginning to emerge from the brush when the group heard gunfire. "That has to be Lexie," said Rick, now on the north side of the river. "Michonne, cross now, Lexie's on her way."

The last to cross, Michonne took out two more walkers with her sword, then clambered onto the tree. She was nearly halfway across when a new hazard appeared. A log, pushed downstream by the storm and the current was headed directly for her. She grabbed the nearest of the upturned branches and braced for impact. The jolt pushed the tree more into the river, causing it to angle so that the gap between the tree and the bank widened. Quickly, Michonne scurried the remaining distance and leaped to safety.

By this time, Lexie had appeared with the herd of walkers hot on her heels. She turned and fired three more times as Daryl called to her. Without hesitating, she stepped out onto the tree, but the added weight of the log pushing from upriver was making the tree unstable. It slipped again, angling slightly more downstream, and Lexie fell to her knees. Driven by its hunger, a walker stepped onto the tree behind her, moaning and reaching for her. She stood and made her way towards the end of the makeshift, but the trunk now ended a good eight feet from the shore.

"Daryl," Lexie yelled, swinging Trigger down from her back. "Take Trigger." Daryl waded a few steps into the icy water, and Lexie swung the pack, tossing the baby into Daryl's waiting arms.

"Jump, I'll help you," Rick called, wading in beside Daryl. But before she could jump, the tree shifted again, and Lexie lost her balance and fell into the water. She grabbed a branch, but it was clear she couldn't hold on for long. The walker behind her was washed downstream, but several more were staggering out onto the tree.

"Keep moving," she told Daryl with tears in her eyes. "Take care of Trigger. I'll find you." And with that she let go, letting the current pull her under and downstream.

"No!" screamed Daryl. He handed Trigger to Glenn and took off running after her, but it was no use. Lexie was gone.

* * *

The group continued eastward as the storm slowly abated. Walking hand-in-hand with Trigger, Daryl was on the point of tears, and several others dabbed their eyes. Several times, Trigger looked up at Daryl and asked, "Mama?"

Each time Daryl replied, "She said she's coming, buddy. She said she's coming."

The good news about the shifting tree was that it meant the herd of walkers couldn't follow them, so they were in the clear for now. They all knew that the chances Lexie had survived were slim at best. If she didn't drown or get taken by one of the walkers in the swirling water, she would surely die of hypothermia. Still, they followed the river downstream, knowing that it would be impossible to convince Daryl to do anything else.

As they walked, the river grew wider, and after a mile or so, it opened into a large lake. Several of the walkers who had been washed downstream lay piled up and moaning on the south bank where it opened into the lake, but there was no sign of Lexie.

"She's not here, brother," Rick said to Daryl softly. "I'm sorry."

Daryl sat down on the ice-covered bank and gave himself over to grief. Michonne and Aaron came up beside him and put their hands on his shoulders. Maggie cried into Glenn's shoulder.

Eventually Carol spoke up. "I'm sorry that's she's gone," she said. "But we need to get out of the cold. Daryl and Rick are wet and in danger of frostbite. We need to head for those cabins over there." She gestured toward a deserted lakeside motel.

Knowing she was right, the group slowly headed for shelter.

* * *

The first few seconds in the water were the worst. Lexie tried to yell a few more parting words to Daryl, but the river pulled her under. Biting cold water filled her mouth and nose. It hurt at first, but within a few heartbeats, every part of her body was beginning to feel numb. She fought to get her face above the water, but the buffeting of the current and floating debris kept flipping her around and upside down until she was no longer sure which direction was up. By the time she managed to claw her way to the surface and gasp for a few quick mouthfuls of air, she was too far downstream to see Daryl, Trigger, or anyone else.

She was also much closer to the southern shore of the river. As it widened, the current slowed, and she was soon able to keep her head above water more often than she was under. Ahead, a downed tree jutted into the river. Lexie lunged for it, grabbing on and then slowly maneuvering into the shallower water where she could stand and stagger toward shore.

Finally free of the river, she collapsed into the snow and mud on the bank, shivering violently. But she knew she couldn't stay there. Several walkers floated past, reaching for her as they sped by, and she knew there were more on land being pushed her way by the storm.

She told herself that she would find Daryl and Trigger again, but first she needed to get warm and then find a way across the river to the north side where she had left them. In the trees and brush to the south, she thought she could see the outline of some sort of structure. As the water covering her body slowly crystallized into ice, she stumbled through the woods, hoping against hope for salvation. After what seemed like hours, she arrived at a cabin. Covered in ice and frost, she made it through the door and sank to the ground before falling unconscious.


	7. Chapter 7 - Tourist Trap

**Tourist Trap**

For two days, Daryl had said barely a word. One at a time, each of the members of the group had attempted to coax him into conversation, but he never responded. He spent his time staring out the lone window of the too-small motel room into the swirling white snow beyond. He must have eaten and drunk because the food and water his friends brought him slowly disappeared, but no one actually saw him consume any of it. And in the night, whenever the watch changed, he was always awake, sitting or standing by the window. He never cried that anyone saw, but a storm was pounding inside him just as it raged outside.

The wind and snow finally abated on their third day in the motel—and that was when Daryl thawed out as well. It wasn't any of the adults who broke through to him; it was Trigger.

Rick's group had been crowded into two rooms with an adjoining door, and they were all tired of being confined. Hoping to prevent further pain, Michonne, Carol, and Maggie had been keeping Trigger as far away from Daryl as possible in the tight space. But the morning that the storm ended, Trigger woke early, just as the sun was beginning to come up. With the dawn reflecting off the snow and ice outside, the morning seemed brighter than usual-and far too quiet now that the wind had calmed.

Trigger carefully walked around the bodies sleeping on the floor and made his way to Daryl, who was still sitting beneath the window, staring outside. Without hesitating, the boy crawled onto Daryl's lap.

"Day," he pronounced, trying to say Daryl's name.

Roused from wherever his mind had been wandering, Daryl looked at the boy. "What did you say?" he asked quietly.

"Day," Trigger repeated, leaning his head against Daryl's chest and reaching up to grab his friend's ear. The gesture felt incredibly familiar to Daryl, even though he had known the toddler for only a couple of weeks. Tears silently rolled down Daryl's face as the two of them stared outside at the rising sun.

After a while, the other occupants of the motel room started to stir. Daryl quickly wiped the tears from his face and looked down at Trigger again. "Are you hungry, little man?" he asked.

Trigger nodded.

"Hey, what've we got for little kids to eat?" Daryl asked Aaron. Surprised to hear his voice, Aaron looked at Daryl in wonder. "A little cold cereal and some applesauce," Aaron replied, trying to pretend that nothing unusual had happened.

"Good, hook him up, he's hungry," said Daryl. He and Aaron looked at each other for a moment before Daryl added, "I'm hungry too."

With the storm over and Daryl acting more like his usual self, the group began discussing their next move. Several wanted to push south where the weather would hopefully be warmer. The storm on the island had awakened them to the dangers of cold weather, and Jessie thought they had enough to worry about with walkers and other survivors without adding bad weather to the mix. But going south would put them back in the direction they'd come.

Others repeated well-worn arguments in favor of heading to the coast or towards the center of the country. Michonne argued forcefully in favor of the defensive possibilities of a beach on the Atlantic, noting that they might even be able to find an island near the shore. Carol, on the other hand, liked the idea of the Midwest. "People are the real threat now," she said. "We know how to handle the walkers—what we really need is to find someplace where there aren't many other people."

In the end, though, it was Maggie's needs that determined their course of action. She had to have a safe place to deliver the baby, preferably with plenty of drugs and equipment on hand for anything that might go wrong. They would try to find someplace with medical supplies—preferably someplace nearby.

The motel office had a rack full of tourist brochures. After dispatching the dead clerk, Glenn scooped up one of each of the pamphlets and brought them back to the group. Most of them were garbage, but there was a Chamber of Commerce map that was helpful. In addition to all the restaurants, hotels, and tourist attractions in the area, it listed all the spots where tourists might find 24-hour medical care. The group had seen enough hospitals to know that they were likely to have few supplies and/or plenty of walkers inside. However, there was an urgent care center that looked promising. Heath produced a dusty copy of the yellow pages he had found in the bedside table.

"Look," he said, "That urgent care is in the same building with a couple of other doctor's offices—a family practice, a lab, and an ob-gyn. They might still have what we need, but they wouldn't have any inpatients there like a hospital would."

"And it's a rural clinic," noted Maggie. "Way up in the mountains. Doesn't look like there's much else nearby. Other survivors might have overlooked it."

Rick looked down at the yellow pages ad. "Appalachian Health—Treating you like family," it said before promising easy terms for patients without insurance. "It's far, though," he said. "Twenty miles heading up into the mountains. "And we don't have a vehicle."

"We can head out together, see what we can find on the way," suggested Michonne.

Wordlessly, the group looked at Daryl, worried that he might still be hoping that Lexie would show up. But he didn't object to moving on. He just nodded once and looked back down at the map.

"All right," agreed Rick. "First, I want a group to make a run through the area around here, see what supplies we can find. The stuff we got from the convent and the island house isn't going to last forever, especially if we're going twenty miles on foot."

Heath, Glenn, Tara, and Michonne offered to make the sweep. They agreed to be back by sundown. Everyone else planned to get a breath of fresh air and then head back inside. It might not be storming any more, but it was still plenty cold outside.

* * *

The area around the lake had catered primarily to vacationers. There was only one grocery store, but there were four putt-putt golf courses, a go-kart track, batting cages, a small waterslide park, a haunted house, and an assortment of family restaurants and T-shirt shops all within a mile-long strip. The foursome hit the grocery store first, but it was tiny and had been completely cleaned out.

They decided to split up and check out the other places as quickly as possible. Glenn and Tara took the north side of the street, heading for one of the putt-putt places, while Heath and Michonne went south.

The abandoned mini-golf course seemed even more desolate coated with ice and with wind-blown drifts of snow piled up next to the obstacles. It had a mining theme with plenty of tunnels and water wheels that occasionally turned in the breeze. As the sun rose higher, the snow and ice were beginning to melt, and drips of water were splattering on the various wood and metal decorations with a vaguely melodic effect.

Glenn and Tara headed straight for the ticket shack. It held nothing of value, but Tara picked up one of the golf clubs from the rack by the door and slung it over her shoulder. Glenn looked at her disbelievingly. "What? It could come in handy," she protested.

"Whatever," said Glenn. "Let's check the snack bar."

The small hut had a fridge full of hot dogs long past their prime and a freezer full of ice cream that had melted years earlier. The stench was nauseating, but Glenn persisted in digging through the cupboards.

"Aha," he said after a few moments. "Bottled water!" Someone had obviously tried to hide the supplies behind the warming racks for the hot dogs, but they hadn't ever come back for them.

"Nice," said Tara, holding a fist out for a bump. "I saw a cart back behind the ticket booth."

As the two of them loaded the water bottles onto the cart, Heath and Michonne were having similar luck over at the waterslide park. All of the food at the park's hamburger stand had long since gone bad, but Michonne headed to the gift shop on a whim.

"I don't think we need any life jackets or swim suits," protested Heath.

"These glasses might come in handy though," said Michonne, modelling a fluorescent pink pair of sunglasses. "And some of our people might need sunscreen sometime."

"Hardly seems worth it in the winter though," Heath objected. "The chances of us carrying that around until next summer seem pretty slim."

"Hey, check this out!" exclaimed Michonne having found some cupboards behind a counter. "Towels, beach blankets, and sweatshirts!"

"We could use those for the warmth," agreed Heath.

"And for the baby," added Michonne. "Here, let's stuff 'em in one of those beach bags."

Meanwhile, Tara and Glenn had continued down the sometimes slippery street, with Tara now pulling a squeaky cart behind her.

"That thing is going to attract walkers," Glenn complained.

"At least it leaves our hands free," Tara shot back.

They parked it outside the entrance to the haunted house. Glenn squinted through a small window in the door. "Looks pretty scary," he said sarcastically. "But I don't see any walkers." He pounded on the door and the two of them waited a moment. They could hear something inside, but no walkers came close enough to see from the entrance.

"Might be a couple trapped inside," he said. "Be careful." Tara nodded, and the two of them stepped warily through the door.

Meanwhile, Michonne and Heath had moved on to the batting cages. "The bats could be good weapons," Heath said, pulling one out of the container and taking a swing.

"We have plenty of weapons, and the bats are heavy," Michonne countered. "Maybe just take a couple."

Heath threw two bats into the bag he had slung over his shoulder, and the two headed around the small cement building that housed the restrooms and maintenance closet. Around back, a couple of vending machines lay on their sides, the glass busted out of the front and all the food missing. Columns of lockers sat against the wall as well, with the locks torn off and the doors swinging open. "There's nothing here," said Heath. "Might as well move on."

"Yeah," agreed Michonne. "Go kart place is next."

Across the street, the first room of the haunted house was full of ropes and stanchions designed to keep the patrons in line, but the floor was tilted, slanting away from the front door deeper into the bowels of the building. Shining their flashlights around, Glenn and Tara saw that dusty oil paintings with pictures of vampires, witches, mummies, and werewolves adorned the walls.

Unimpressed, Tara said, "Pretty spooky," in a voice that made it clear she thought the place was the opposite of scary.

"Yeah," agreed Glenn as he batted away a low-hanging spider web that may or may not have been fake. They pushed their way through a doorway hung with strings of beads and found themselves in an area full of what looked to be taxidermy specimens. But they soon realized the animals couldn't be real. There was the head of a hippo which had fangs that looked like they came from a saber-toothed tiger. An owl crouched nearby on talons that were at least a foot long. And a wolf that sported eagle's wings appeared to be chasing down a jackalope, which also, strangely, had fangs.

Tara's flashlight reflected off the glass eyes of what appeared to be some sort of cross between a lion and a tiger, and she jumped reflexively, running into an enormous stuffed python, which was the one animal in the room that looked as if it could actually have lived in nature at some time. She yelped in spite of herself, earning an exasperated look from Glenn.

"Don't look now, but I think Bigfoot's in the corner," he said sarcastically.

Staring at the man-sized stuffed creature, Tara's eyes grew larger. "I don't think that's a Bigfoot," she said softly. Just then, the yeti-like thing let out an unmistakable moan.

"Oh, shit, it's a walker," said Glenn, more surprised than afraid. They both pulled out their knives, but the thing didn't move any closer. They tentatively tiptoed nearer, but the walker was chained to the wall. It lunged for them, and Glen pushed his knife through the creature's temple.

Except that the thing's head wasn't where Glenn expected it to be. The walker continued moaning and lunging and gnashing hidden teeth. Then its mask slipped away, revealing the one-time teenaged kid underneath, who was much shorter than he had appeared in his costume. Tara sighed and plunged her knife into the walker's real skull.

"Let's hurry up and find the snack bar or gift shop or whatever this place has and get out of here," suggested Glenn.

"Exit through the gift shop," Tara muttered.

On the south side of the street, Heath and Michonne seemed to be striking out again. The ticket booth at the go-kart place had no food or drinks of any kind, and the go-karts clustered nearby had all been drained of gas.

Heath kicked one of the tires absently. "You know, I worked in a place like this one summer in high school," he offered.

"Yeah?" Michonne said politely, though she obviously wasn't that interested.

"Yeah, I got pretty good at fixing these things. . ." Heath's voice trailed off as he looked off in the distance.

Instantly alert, Michonne began to draw her sword and asked, "D'you see something?"

"Relax," Heath said, gesturing with his hand. "I think I see a maintenance shed out there in the trees is all. Let's check it out."

By this time, Tara and Glenn had entered a maze section in the haunted house. Using a clever system of weights and pulleys, it raised and lowered panels as they crossed various sections of the floor. In no time at all, they were hopelessly lost.

"We're wasting time," Glenn said exasperatedly as he briefly saw the exit for what seemed like the dozenth time, only to have the path blocked almost immediately by a new panel.

"This is actually a pretty kick-ass haunted house," Tara admitted grudgingly.

Glenn gave her a look that made it clear he didn't share her admiration.

"I'm just saying. . . " Tara began to defend herself. Then she had a better idea. "Why are wasting time with this maze anyway?"

"Because it's the only way through," replied Glenn, as if it were obvious.

"No, it isn't," said Tara as she punched through one of the maze panels. The thin piece of sheetrock was only slightly stronger than cardboard, and while she didn't put a big hole in it, it was clear they didn't need to waste any more time going in circles.

After a few moments of enthusiastically punching the walls, they'd passed through to the next room, where human figures were arranged in various scenes of horror-a guillotine, a hanging, a drowning, a gory surgery. Frankly, none of it came close to what they had scene in real life, so Tara and Glenn rushed on.

They stumbled through into the last room, flashlights held high. They had fallen into a ball pit-a lot like the ones for little kids in fast food restaurants, only in this case the balls were all painted like eyeballs. They were also covered in some sort of viscous goo that they assumed had been meant to look like blood.

"This is the scariest room yet," said Tara, as she lifted up her hand and watched the fluid ooze off her fingers.

"No kidding," agreed Glenn. "Do you know what kind of crap they find in ball pits? Like syringes and used condoms and drugs and crap, not to mention all the kid germs."

A sudden movement and moaning sound made it clear those weren't the only dangers in this particular pit. A walker stood and moved towards them, stumbling on the rolling balls. In seconds, two more had emerged. Tara and Glenn drew their knives, at first unfazed by the sudden appearance of the dead. But the pitch darkness and the eyeballs complicated matters more than they had expected. As Glenn made a jab to put his knife through a walker's head, he fell, toppling into the walker and submerging them both beneath the surface of the balls.

Trying a different tactic, Tara shuffled forward, her flashlight trained on the nearest walker. Almost immediately, something grabbed her ankle under the balls. "Shit!" she yelled, circling the flashlight wildly as she looked for a sign of the walker. She sank to her knees, slashing with her knife as she went, knowing that she needed to dispatch the hidden walker before the other one got close enough to do damage.

Just then, Glenn rose up, gasping for breath as if he had been underwater. He had taken out the first walker, but now saw that Tara was in trouble. "Get to the exit as fast as you can," he yelled at her. "Don't worry about killing them all."

Tara stood again, a walker's detached arm in her hand. She flung it aside, and for a brief second, it looked like she was going to continue searching under the balls for rest of the walker, but then she recognized the wisdom of what Glenn had said. He jammed his knife through the skull of another walker, then followed close on her heels as they half-sprinted, half-waded toward the exit with the walkers scrambling behind.

Pushing with all their weight on the door latch, they burst through to the other side and then quickly shut the door behind them.

"I can hold them, find something to jam against it," ordered Glenn.

"No need," said a deep voice behind them. "I have the key."

At the first word, Tara and Glenn spun in place, keeping their weight against the door. They found themselves in a gift shop, dimly lit by a few high windows. Directly in front of them stood a tall, lean but muscular African-American man holding a key in one hand and a pistol in the other.

"Drop your weapons," he said firmly, "and I'll lock the door."

After sharing a brief glance, Tara and Glenn did as they were told, tossing their knives to the side. The stranger came closer and quickly locked the door, keeping the gun trained on them the entire time.

"I unlocked it when I heard you coming," he said by way of explanation. "I was curious about how it could be possible that anyone still alive hadn't already seen enough haunted houses."

Tara snorted at his wry tone. "We're not here for kicks," she said. Glenn added, "We were just looking for food."

"Ah," said the man. "I am sorry to disappoint you. I already cleaned out the gift shop, as well as the other attractions up and down the strip." He waited a moment before adding, "There really wasn't much other than a few candy bars and bottles of soda. I did, however, find some venison jerky and something that was apparently edible despite being marked 'elk poop.'"

Despite the stranger's gun, his tone made Tara feel that he wasn't really all that threatening, and she chuckled a little at the "elk poop" comment. The humor was short-lived, however, because a sudden sound from outside caught their attention.

It sounded like a herd of noisy lawnmowers, interspersed with squealing tires and some whoops. Following the man with the gun, Tara and Glenn looked through the exit door, which led to a side alley, and craned their necks to see the main street. Michonne and Heath had apparently found some working go-karts and were now racing down the road.

"I presume they're with you?" asked the man.

Reluctantly, Tara nodded.

"Excellent," he said. "Then they may be willing to give up some supplies or even one of those vehicles to get you back." He gestured with the gun towards the door, and the three of them stepped outside.

Blinking a bit in the sun, Glenn and Tara stepped to the edge of the sidewalk where Heath and Michonne would be sure to see them. "That's far enough," the stranger called.

At the same instant, Heath and Michonne both noticed their friends-and the tall man with a gun-and careened to halt before cutting off their engines.

"Hello," said the stranger calmly. "You won't be needing that sword," he added to Michonne as she reached back for her weapon.

"There's no need for this to get ugly," he said casually. "I'm merely a traveler in need of supplies. I'll take whatever you two might have, as well as one of those go-karts. In exchange, I'm perfectly willing to give you back your friends and allow you all to live."

"What if we don't want to give up our supplies and our go-kart?" asked Michonne.

"I'm also perfectly willing to kill as many of you as necessary," he replied in the same even tone. "It's your choice, but if you would like to remain alive, I suggest you throw your weapons to the far side of the street and back away from the go-karts. Leave your bags on the vehicles."

After some brief hesitation, Heath did as he was told, and Michonne followed suit.

"Excellent choice," said the stranger. He walked over to one of the go-karts and briefly fiddled with the engine, removing a spark plug. "I can't have you following me too closely," he said apologetically. He waved with his gun, motioning Tara and Glenn to join their friends.

"That went so well, I wonder if we might be able to make one more deal," he continued. "What's in the bags?"

Michonne shrugged, "Not a lot-towels, blankets, sunscreen, pair of sunglasses, couple of baseball bats."

"I'm in need of a map, or barring that, some information about the area south of here," he said. "I'd be willing to trade everything in the bag except one blanket for accurate information."

"We've been south a ways," Michonne answered cautiously. "Some of us came from around Atlanta originally."

"I don't need to go that far," the man replied. "Just about three hundred miles, as close as I can figure. But I lost my map outside New York. I'm looking for a little town called Davisburg—actually I need to get to a convent outside of town—place called St. Mary's."

Startled, Glenn, Tara, Michonne, and Heath all looked at each other a moment before Glenn answered. "We might know it," he hedged. "Why do you need to get there?"

In a flash, the stranger's eyes hardened, and he suddenly seemed more menacing than before. "Don't play with me," he warned, his voice deeper. "I can see that you know it. I have reason to believe my fiancée might be there, and I've come all the way from France to find her."

Her eyes wide, Tara said the first thing that came to her mind without considering the consequences: "Lexie."


	8. Chapter 8 - Mine

**Mine**

"How do you know her name?" the stranger roared, cocking his weapon and pointing it directly at Tara's forehead as he walked toward her. The calm, mild-mannered gentleman had disappeared, and in his place was someone who seemed far more unstable, his eyes wide with anger.

Glenn jumped in between the two of them, his arms stretched toward the man in front of him. "Wait, wait, calm down," he said quickly. "We met her. Lexie. We were at St. Mary's not too long ago."

The stranger tilted his head disbelievingly, but he was obviously considering what Glenn had said.

"What's your name?" Glenn asked, trying to defuse the situation.

But the stranger met the question with a demand. "If you met Lexie, prove it."

"Um, she had long blond hair," Glenn began.

"She was beautiful," added Tara.

Michonne, who had spent more time with Lexie, filled in some more details. "She was a women's studies major," she said, "and she was back at St. Mary's doing research for her graduate work. She attended school there after her mother died. She had a fiancé who was a dancer, but he—you—were in France when everything got bad. She tried to go back to your apartment in New York, but she didn't make it. She ended up back at the convent."

Dumbfounded, the stranger lowered his gun. "Jamaal," he said. "My name is Jamaal."

Glenn stuck out his head, saying, "I'm Glenn. This is Michonne, Tara, and Heath." Everyone nodded as he said their names.

"You're using past tense," Jamaal said. "When you talk about her, you are using past tense. What happened?"

The group looked at each other uneasily. "You should come with us," Glenn said after a few moments. "We have a larger group, and other people can tell the story better than we can." He paused a moment before adding, "You'll be free to leave, I promise, but we sometimes we also take new people into the group."

"They'll tell me where Lexie is?" Jamaal pressed.

"Yes," Glenn answered confidently, "They will."

* * *

After three days of forced proximity, everyone at the motel was ready for a breath of fresh air—although none of them really wanted to spend too much time outside in the cold. And none of them were very excited about another day spent doing nothing but waiting.

Looking through the window, Daryl got an idea for how to make the time pass a little more quickly, but before he could put it into action, Carol and Jessie came over.

"Trigger, do you want to come play cars with Sam and Judith?" Jessie asked.

"No, he doesn't," Daryl answered, a little more gruffly than he intended. "We've got plans."

A little taken aback by his brusqueness, Jessie put on a fake smile and said, "OK, another time then," in a falsely cheerful voice. But Carol grabbed her arm before she could walk away.

"Daryl, apologize. She was just trying to help," Carol ordered.

After glaring at the two of them for moment, Daryl muttered, "Sorry." He eyed them some more before continuing, "I know you both mean well, but maybe there's been too much trying to help. Trigger's my responsibility. I'll take care of him. Just bring me his clothes and stuff."

Jessie looked impressed, but Carol was having none of it. "He's not your responsibility. His parents are dead. The group will look after him."

Daryl was not going to give in. "He is my responsibility. Lexie told me to take care of him, and I will. He's mine now."

"You can't raise a child on your own Daryl, especially not now. And he's not even your kid," Carol argued. "Lexie didn't mean for you to care for him forever."

"He's mine," Daryl repeated more forcefully. "I might need some help from y'all sometimes, but you should wait for me to ask."

Carol looked ready to argue some more, but Jessie put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Sounds fine, Daryl," Jessie said. "It's good he has you."

Carol stalked off in a huff with Jessie and Daryl watching.

When she was gone, Daryl said, "I was thinkin' about taking Trigger outside to build a snowman."

Jessie's face lit up. "That's a great idea!" she said.

"Yeah?" Daryl asked. "Maybe Sam and Judith and Carl and Ron would want to help?"

"I'll see what kind of warm clothes we can scrounge up," Jessie offered, as she turned to start the search. "And I'll bring you Trigger's stuff." Just as she was leaving, she tossed out one more comment. "Oh, and Daryl," she said with a grin. "I think you're a great dad."

Uncomfortable, Daryl looked down at Trigger, whom he supposed really was something like his son now. "What do you think, little man, wanna build a snowman?"

"Day!" said Trigger happily, using his new favorite word. "Day! Day! Day!"

* * *

After a few minutes of sitting and watching through the window as Daryl, Aaron, Jessie, and the kids built their snowmen—and occasionally tossed snowballs at each other—Rosita couldn't take all the happiness anymore. "I'm going for a walk," she announced to no one in particular. Maggie looked up from the ancient magazine she was reading, but seemed unlikely to leave her perch on the motel bed.

"I'm coming, too," offered Eugene, who was also missing Abraham.

"Fine," agreed Rosita. She stamped out the door and turned her back on the group playing in the snow, determined to avoid watching the happy scene when she still felt so miserable about losing Abraham.

Eugene followed in her wake, but it took him a while to catch up. When he did, he was panting for breath.

"It's freezing out here," Rosita complained. "I never thought I'd say it, but I miss Texas."

"Well, you're the one who wanted to go for a walk," Eugene retorted. "I wouldn't mind a single bit if we were to head back indoors."

"I don't want to go back either," Rosita said, her voice on the verge of breaking. Her eyes began to fill up with tears, and then she saw movement in the trees. "Walker," she cautioned Eugene. She sprang forward, driving her knife through its head.

Twenty feet behind, another walker approached, and they could see a few others straggling behind. Sprinting now, Rosita took down the first one, with Eugene hurrying along behind her. He drew his knife, but there was no need. In a matter of minutes, Rosita had eliminated the entire small group, eight in all, one after the other. Spinning, she looked around for more. With no more walkers visible, she turned to Eugene and announced, "I'm going back now."

"Do you feel better?" he asked, a little perplexed.

"No," she replied, "but I feel strong again."

* * *

Rosita wasn't the only one unsettled by the sight of the kids playing in the snow. Carol approached Rick, who was looking over their various maps yet again.

"Do you think we should stop them, make them come back inside?" Carol asked.

"Why?" Rick wondered.

"They're making a lot of noise. Could draw in walkers," she said.

"They probably will," Rick agreed. "Daryl, Aaron, and Carl can handle it when it happens."

Carol got around the topic that was really on her mind. "Daryl thinks Trigger is his responsibility now. Wants the rest of us to back off."

Rick thought for a moment. "That's his right," he finally replied.

"He can't raise a child on his own," Carol argued. "He's never had a kid before."

"No one's ever really ready to become a parent. He was in love. If he wants to raise Lexie's child, that's his choice."

"He only knew her for two weeks," protested Carol.

"Sometimes that's all it takes."

Carol decided to change tactics. "Is no one going to think about what is best for that little boy?" she asked.

Taken aback, Rick paused again before replying. "What's best for any child is to be raised by someone who loves them. And Daryl can probably do a better job of protecting him and teaching him what he needs to know than anyone else."

She didn't have a good response for that argument, but the set of Carol's mouth made it clear she wasn't convinced.

"Why does it matter to you so much anyway?" Rick asked.

Before she could answer, a shriek from Sam made it clear that playtime was at an end. A walker had gotten with ten yards of the group without being noticed. Rick and Carol rushed out into the snow, their knives drawn.

Jessie hushed Sam, picked up Judith, and reached for Trigger's hand. Remembering something about how Lexie had trained her son, she said, "Trigger, time to play hide and seek."

In a flash, the toddler bolted for the motel room, rushing past Carol, who tried to catch him but was too slow.

Daryl raised his crossbow and fired at the first walker, hitting it square in the head, while Aaron, Carl, and Ron unsheathed their knives. Two more approached from the end of the block. Rick rushed forward, handling one with his knife, while Daryl's crossbow took down the second. Everyone scanned the street for a moment, but no additional walkers appeared.

"Guess it's time to head inside," muttered Ron.

"Yep," Carl added, hitting his friend squarely in the head in with a snowball.

As everyone else filed back into the motel, Rick and Daryl lingered in the street for a moment, just to be sure no more walkers were headed their way.

Rick decided it was as good a time as any to broach the topic of Trigger. "So Carol's a little worried about you," he began.

"Carol needs to mind her own damn business," Daryl asserted.

"She just wants to make sure you know what you're getting into, taking on a child," said Rick.

"I'm not taking him on, he's mine," Daryl said angrily.

"Fair enough," Rick began, but whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a shriek from inside the motel.

Recognizing it as Trigger, Daryl took off running. Once inside, he saw Carol trying unsuccessfully to pry Trigger from the cupboard under the bathroom sink. He was yelling, "Hiii, Seee, Hiii, Seee."

"For Christ's sake, let him go," hollered Daryl. "What's the matter with you?"

Carol dropped Trigger's legs and stood up. The shrieking stopped, although the boy continued to whimper. "He can't stay in the cupboard, Daryl," Carol told Daryl, as if he were being obtuse.

"Go," he ordered.

Against her better judgment, Carol walked away. She stopped by the door that led to the adjoining room, arms folded in front of her, waiting to see what Daryl would do.

He sat down cross-legged outside the cupboard and peered inside. "Hey, buddy, what are you doing in there?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Hii, seeee," Trigger replied.

"Hide and seek is good," Daryl said. "You did the right thing. When someone tells you to hide, you should find a little place and be real quiet."

Obviously understanding, Trigger nodded, then held his pointer finger to his lips and blew on it. "Shhhhh!"

Daryl nodded back. "But now it's time to come out, Trigger."

"No!" said the boy. "Mama!"

"Mama told that when you're playing hide and seek you shouldn't come out until she came to get you, didn't she?" Daryl asked.

Trigger nodded and said again, "Mama."

"Mama's not here now, Trigger," Daryl explained. "Now, Daryl's gonna to be the one to come get you when you hide."

Trigger considered this for a moment. "Day?" he asked.

"Yeah, me," Daryl said gruffly. "It's time to come out."

Cautiously, Trigger poked his head out of the cupboard. Then, all at once, he scrambled in Daryl's lap and threw his chubby arms around Daryl's neck in hug. "Day," he said again.

Somewhat tentatively, Daryl hugged him back with one arm as the toddler planted a slightly sticky kiss on his cheek before scrambling off to find somewhere to play.

From their seats on one of the motel room's beds, Maggie and Jessie had watched the scene play out without really intending to listen in. They both dabbed at their eyes before turning their attention back to Judith and Sam.

With her arms still crossed over her chest, Carol headed into the second room looking for something, anything to do to pass the rest of the day until everyone got back.

* * *

With the weather warming a bit in the afternoon, the group spread out into more of the motel. Carol, Rosita, and Eugene took it upon themselves to clear the walkers from the rest of the rooms, and soon everyone had a little more privacy than they had during the storm. Rick and Daryl kept watch outside.

With no more walkers arriving, it seemed safe to let the kids outside to play again. The older boys found a Frisbee that they soon sent winging down the street. And thanks to all the melting snow, Judith and Trigger found a mud puddle that kept them happily occupied.

It was getting close to supper time when they heard a distant, unfamiliar buzzing sound. Tensed for danger, Rick and Carl drew their guns, and Daryl readied his bow.

Within seconds, the source of the sound became apparent as three go-karts zipped into sight and stopped in the small motel parking lot. Noticing that someone extra had come back with their friends, the three men kept their weapons drawn and trained on the newcomer.

"Jessie," Rick called, "Can you come take the kids inside?"

As she did so, the five new arrivals climbed off their go-karts. Rick thought they seemed oddly tense for a group that had chosen such an unusual form of transportation. Heath immediately grabbed the bag of supplies and headed inside without a word.

"What's going on?" Rick asked without lowering his weapon.

"It's OK, Rick," began Glenn, who had shared a go-kart with Jamaal. "We asked him to come back with us. He needs to talk with you. . . and Daryl."

"Why?" asked Rick. "What happened on the run?"

"Nothing," Michonne said quickly, wanting to put everyone at ease. "We didn't find much that was useful. Glenn and Tara met Jamaal though, and we all thought it was best he come back with us."

Everyone seemed to be skirting around something they didn't want to say, and it awakened Rick's cop instincts.

"You're Jamaal?" he asked the stranger.

"Yes," the tall black man replied.

"Why does my family think I should talk with you?"

Also cautious, Jamaal had his hand on his gun but hadn't drawn it. "They wouldn't say," he said. "But they seemed to know something about my fiancée." Rick and Daryl looked at each other, unsure of what was coming next. "Her name was Lexie," Jamaal continued, "and I think she might have been at a place called St. Mary's a few hundred miles south of here. I'm on my way there, or I was until these four convinced me to come here."

At Lexie's name, Daryl had begun to lower his crossbow without thinking, but when Jamaal finished his speech, he raised it high again. "How do we know you're really Lexie's fiancé?" he asked belligerently.

"Daryl," Rick said firmly as he lowered his own gun.

Glenn spoke up at the same time, "He brought up Lexie and St. Mary's on his own," Glenn told his friend. "He couldn't have known we knew her. Everything else matches the things she told us, too."

Rick put his hand on Daryl's crossbow and pushed it toward the ground. Grudgingly, Daryl nodded and allowed the weapon to be redirected. Rick turned to Jamaal. "They were right to bring you here. We did meet her. We should talk."

"Come on, let's give them some space," Glenn said to Michonne, Carl, and Tara.

They followed him into the motel, but as they went, Carl muttered under his breath, "I wanna hear what happens."

"Me too," Michonne whispered back. "We'll leave the door open and listen."

Rick, Daryl, and Jamaal sat down on a dilapidated picnic table that was chained to a post holding up the overhang on the motel roof. Rick began his story: "A couple of weeks ago, we were on the run from a group that called themselves the Wolves. My baby, Judith, got sick. Dehydrated. We were desperate to find baby formula, and we saw that there was a preschool at St Mary's, so we decided to give it a try."

Looking slightly uncomfortable, Jamaal shifted in his seat, his eyes narrow and suspicious. Nervous, Daryl tapped his foot and picked at his lip.

"The place seemed overrun with walkers, but we had to try," Rick continued. "Lexie was hiding inside. She was using the walkers to camouflage the fact that someone was living there. She had electricity from the solar panels, and she worked out a way to control the walkers, locking some of the doors and using the loudspeakers to get them to go where she wanted them to go."

Jamaal smiled a bit, looking slightly more comfortable for the first time since he had arrived. "That sounds like my Lexie."

Rick took a breath and looked over at Daryl before resuming the story. "She also had a child, a boy."

Stunned, Jamaal's mouth dropped open. "Was he. . . "

"No," Rick said, knowing that Jamaal was wondering if he had a son. "She told us that she had gone to look for you in New York. On the way, she fell in with another group. At least one of them raped her, and he was the father. Lexie killed him and brought her boy to the convent."

"Oh my God," Jamaal murmured, looking horrified.

Rick went on. "Lexie saved my daughter's life. She nursed her until she was better." He paused again, carefully skipping over any mention of Daryl's involvement. "Eventually, the Wolves caught up with us. We came up with a plan to eliminate the threat once and for all. Lexie had rigged the convent with dynamite. When the Wolves came inside, we escaped through a tunnel and brought the place down on their heads."

"The tunnel to the post office?" Jamaal asked, smiling. "I've heard some stories about that tunnel."

Rick wasn't finished yet. "Lexie joined our group. She took us to a house on an island. Said it belonged to a professor she knew."

Jamaal nodded. "That would be Dr. Hardy's place. I've heard those stories too."

"Things went bad," said Rick. "When the storm hit, the river froze, and it blew a herd of walkers right to our front door. Most of us got away, but Lexie fell in the river." He paused again. "I'm sorry, Jamaal, she didn't make it."

As Rick finished the story, Daryl grew ever more fidgety as he watched to see what Jamaal would do.

"No," Jamaal said flatly. "She can't be dead. I came all the way across the Atlantic to find her. She got out of the river and holed up somewhere. She's a survivor."

"We checked," Daryl insisted. "We walked all the way down the river to the lake here. She didn't wash ashore. She's gone."

Jamaal rested his head in his hands, still not wanting to believe that Rick's story was true but seeing no way around it. Eventually, he asked, "What about her son? Did he survive?" When Rick nodded, he added, "Can I see him?"

Daryl got up and walked the few steps to the door of the motel room where Jessie had taken the kids. "Come 'ere, Trigger," he said, emerging a few seconds later holding the toddler's hand.

As Daryl and Trigger walked toward the picnic table hand-in-hand, Jamaal looked from the toddler to Rick and back again several times. Seeing the boy's dark skin, he asked the obvious question. "Are you sure he isn't mine?"

"No," Daryl said gruffly. "He's mine."


	9. Chapter 9 - Not There

**Not There**

Despite the fact that the group was still low on food, Rick announced plans to start heading up to the clinic in the mountains the next morning. With Maggie getting closer to her due date, they needed medical supplies and a safe place for the birth, and Appalachian Health seemed like the best option. Hopefully they could scavenge for more food on the way.

Jamaal hadn't decided yet if he would go with them. Reeling from the revelations about Lexie, he passed through most of the evening in a stupor. Although they were all polite, the group gave him plenty of space, for which he was grateful. He tried not to stare, but he found that he simply couldn't stop watching Trigger. He scanned the boy's face for traces of his mother's features, and although he didn't admit it to himself, he was secretly hoping that he would also see some of his own.

Watching Trigger meant watching Daryl. Jamaal wondered how it was that the man had come to be the toddler's guardian, and he worried more than a little that there might be something inappropriate going on. Part of him wanted to snatch the boy and run, but he was fairly certain that Daryl—if not the entire group—would hunt him down if he tried.

The watcher was also watched. Maintaining a careful distance, Carol kept her eye on Jamaal, much as she had with Lexie. Jessie noticed and brought it up.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" Jessie began.

"What is?" Carol asked politely.

"If you hadn't lied to Lexie, she probably would have been reunited with Jamaal a couple of days later. Likely, he would have taken her and Trigger away. But instead, she's dead, and now Daryl won't ever forget her because he has Trigger to take care of."

"What are you trying to say?" Carol asked angrily. "That I was responsible for Lexie's death? That I killed her on purpose? Is that what you think?"

Refusing to be drawn into an argument, Jessie kept speaking in the same calm, quiet voice. "I was there, remember. I know what you said to Lexie. And it was obvious that Daryl never had any intention of meeting her at the house."

"I must have misheard him," Carol said, unwilling to admit the truth. "I didn't mean for her to die."

"Maybe not," Jessie acquiesced, "but you definitely meant for her to be left behind."

"She was a threat," asserted Carol. "No one knows what she would have done."

Jessie shook her head slowly. "Maybe she was a threat to your relationship with Daryl, but she definitely wasn't a threat to the group."

Carol stiffened. "Daryl and I are just friends."

"Yes, you are," Jessie acknowledged. "I wonder sometimes if you remember that."

Carol didn't respond to that statement, but after a few moments, she asked, "Have you discussed your opinions with Rick?"

"No, I haven't," Jessie said, "but Rick's not stupid. Somewhere down deep he knows it wasn't an accident that Jessie got left behind."

Carol didn't believe her. "Then why hasn't he said anything?"

"He still feels grateful for what you did for the group at Terminus. And he thinks he needs you."

Carol took a breath as if she were going to say something in reply, but she stopped when Rick walked up holding Judith. He planted a kiss on Jessie's cheek and asked, "What are you two discussing so seriously?"

"Just thinking about the trip tomorrow," lied Jessie.

"We're a little worried . . . about Maggie," Carol added.

* * *

In the morning, Rick woke early, but Jamaal's eyes were already open. He was still staring at Trigger, who was cuddled up against Daryl, both of them sleeping on the motel room floor.

Rick headed outside to the picnic table to relieve Heath on watch, and Jamaal followed. "Have you made a decision?" Rick asked.

Jamaal nodded. "I'm coming with you. I think it's what Lexie would have wanted . . . and I don't know what else to do."

"We'll be glad to have you," said Rick. "There's safety in numbers, and you knowing Lexie makes you like family."

"I don't know about that," Jamaal replied, "but I'll pull my weight."

As the two men watched the sun rise and swapped a few stories, the rest of the group slowly came to life. They made breakfast from the few supplies they had left and packed up their meager belongings.

When it was clear everyone was ready to go, Rick addressed the group. "Listen up," he said. "These go-karts aren't going to get us all the way to the clinic, but we're going to get all the use out of them that we can. Glenn, I want you and Maggie to ride in one—save Maggie the trouble of walking, and she can hold Judith."

Maggie started to protest, but everyone else quickly hushed her. Michonne spoke for the group, saying, "We don't need you going into labor early."

Rick continued, "In the second go-kart, I want Jessie and Sam, and in the third will be Daryl, Carol, and Trigger. Get as far as you can on the gas you have, and the rest of us will follow on foot. Daryl, Glenn, I want you to scavenge for supplies on the way if you can. We're still low on food."

Everyone nodded their agreement, and within minutes the group on the go-karts were out of sight around a curve. Those on foot hefted their packs, checked their weapons and headed out behind them.

Carol worried that it would be awkward riding with Daryl. After her conversation with Jessie, she wondered if he had also put two and two together about her role in Lexie's death. But the noise of the go-karts made conversation impossible, and she had her hands full with Trigger. For the first fifteen minutes, he was excited about this new form of transportation and kept busy making engine sounds. Soon, however, boredom set in, and he began to squirm. That forced Carol to hold him more tightly, which did little to endear her to him.

Within an hour, the go-karts came up to an intersection with a gas station, a diner, and a bar that advertised topless dancers. Several miles away from the lake, this area obviously saw fewer tourists and catered to the locals. In the lead, Glenn slowed his go-kart to a stop.

Leaving the babies with Sam and the three women, Glenn and Daryl made a quick survey of the buildings. The gas pumps were dry, of course, and the convenience store had been completely cleaned out. Peeking through the windows of the diner, they saw a half a dozen walkers that had already been killed. Not surprisingly, the shelves in the kitchen were bare.

That left the bar. Glenn knocked on the door, and from inside came answering growls that let them know there were walkers inside. But without any exterior windows on the building, they had no idea how many awaited them.

"Walkers are good," said Glenn. "It means no one else has cleaned this place out."

"Yeah, or else they tried and got bit," said Daryl.

"We've gotta try," Glenn said. "We need the food."

Seeing what was happening, Maggie and Carol came over. "Jessie and Sam have the babies; we can help," Carol said.

Glenn didn't like the idea of involving his wife, but he knew they needed her. "Maggie, you work the door," he said. "Try to let them out one at a time. We'll handle them."

The plan unfolded as intended, although there were more walkers inside than anyone could have anticipated. Within moments they had a sizable pile of dead dancers and bar patrons, and a few people who appeared to be scavengers who had gotten more trouble than they had bargained for in the bar. Glenn tried to keep Maggie out of the fight, but she jumped in and took down two walkers on her own when it looked like they might converge on Glenn.

Now bloody and out of breath, Daryl and Glenn headed inside. They had hit the jackpot. The kitchen was fully stocked. Much of the food was rotting and smelly, but they found plenty of canned goods they could eat. Back by the dishwasher, they found a couple of metal carts and plenty of plastic bins. They began the process of piling it all together, determined to take as much with them as they could. They had nearly a full load when they heard the unmistakable roar of an engine outside. Both men dashed for the front door, weapons drawn and ready. Without thinking or stopping to look, they rushed outside and straight into trouble.

A tricked-out purple truck with a lift kit sat in the road between them and Jessie and the babies, both of whom were now crying. On the side nearer them stood a white man who looked to be about fifty. Decked out in high-tech hunting camo from head to foot, he had somehow managed to retain his beer belly despite all the hardships of the past year. He had a rifle trained on Maggie and Carol. On the far side of the road, someone who looked to be a younger version of the same man was yelling at Jessie to "hush up them babies," and Glenn and Daryl had no doubt that he also had a gun drawn.

"That's far enough," the older man called when he spotted the two men running from the bar. "Drop your weapons or I _will_ shoot."

Glenn and Daryl slowly lowered their guns and the crossbow. "We ain't looking for any trouble," Daryl said.

"Well, now, you found it all the same," the older man replied in a thick drawl. "We'll take any supplies you have, and probably at least one of these women here."

"Daddy, I think we should take this one," called the voice from the other side of the truck. "She's not knocked up or old like 'em other two."

"That so? Bring her around here and let's have a look."

"What about these rug rats?"

"Just leave 'em there. All that racket's sure to draw the dead. They'll take care of 'em soon enough."

Daryl tensed like he was about to run for Trigger, but Glenn touched his arm and shook his head as the younger of the men dragged Jessie around to their side of the vehicle.

"Well now, you might be right," the older man said. "She's right purty. I've half a mind to keep her up here in the nudie bar where we can have her all to ourselves rather than share with the group down at the bridge."

On the far side of the truck, Sam was doing his best to calm the babies. Sitting on the ground, he held Judith in his lap, jiggling her up and down a little while he tried to interest Trigger in a rock he'd found. The babies' sobs were slowly subsiding, but Sam couldn't help but have the occasional sniffle or hiccup of his own as he scanned the edge of the woods for signs of trouble. He desperately wanted to call out for his mother, but he worried that would bring the monsters down on him.

"Git on up in the truck bed," the younger of the men said, prodding Jessie with his gun. Tears trickled down her cheeks, but she had yet to make a sound.

"Now, don't get ahead of yerself, son," said the father. "We gotsta see what these fine gentlemen got for us from the nudie bar. Work first, then fun." He turned to Daryl. "You," he said, "head on in there and show me what you found." In a louder voice, he added, "Anyone tries anything or I don't come out, you kill the girl, Kinny."

Before turning back towards the bar, Daryl chanced a look at Glen, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod. This would be their chance.

* * *

The group on foot was making better time than Rick had expected. After so many weeks on the run, even Eugene was in moderately good shape. Leading the pack, Jamaal and Michonne set a quick pace while Rick kept an eye on things from the rear.

The noise from the go-karts had drawn a few walkers toward the road, but they dispatched them easily enough. Rick was more worried about any other groups that might be in their vicinity, though they hadn't seen anyone alive since their encounter with the Wolves at St. Mary's.

It had been nearly two hours, and they were about halfway up a hill when they heard a loud engine up ahead. Then the engine cut off, and they heard some shouts.

Without needing to discuss the situation, everyone headed for the trees at the side of the road. "Come on, come on," Rick hissed, hurrying along Carl and Ron, who were straggling. The group waited a few tense moments, but nothing came down the road.

"Could be that was the others on the go-karts," Aaron whispered.

"Could be," Rick agreed. "Could be they're in trouble." Gathering the group around close, he continued. "I'm going to scout up ahead—see what's going on. Could be it's nothing to do with us; could be it's trouble. Aaron, Michonne, Rosita, I need you to keep an eye on things here, keep everyone together." Looking up, he met Jamaal's gaze.

"I'm coming with you," said Jamaal. "I'm quiet in the woods, and I can help in a fight."

Rick nodded agreement, thinking that it was better to have the newcomer where he could keep an eye on him than to leave him with Carl and the others. Before he headed off into the woods, he left the group with a parting command, "We're not back in an hour, you circle around and keep on heading up to that clinic."

* * *

At the truck, Sam was having a difficult time. Trigger had quickly lost interest in the pretty rocks Sam was offering. "Want Day," he said, looking for his friend. "Where Day?"

Sam wasn't listening; he was focused far too intently on the bushes in front of him to pay attention to anything else. He thought he heard a twig snap and then, unmistakably, the bushes started to rustle. He could keep silent no longer. "Mom?!" he yelled. "Mom, I think the monsters are coming!"

Jessie took a chance and hollered back. "Run, Sam! Take the babies and hide!"

The word "hide" worked like magic on Trigger. His eyes grew wide, and he bolted into the underbrush—directly toward the bush Sam had just seen moving.

Too frightened to worry about the toddler who had scampered away, Sam clutched Judith to his chest and also ran for the woods, but away from the direction where he thought the walkers were.

Displeased with her outburst, Kinny yelled, "Shut up, bitch!" and backhanded her across the face. To Jessie's thinking, it was good that he took the time to hit her because it meant he had less time to fire at Sam and the babies. By the time he raised his gun and took a shot, Sam was already disappearing into the woods. After he realized someone was shooting at him, the boy sprintedeven faster. Paying no attention to where he was going, he careened straight into Rick, who stopped him and took Judith from his arms.

"Sam, where's your mom?" Rick demanded in a quiet voice.

The boy sobbed out his reply. "She's up there in a truck, and there's a man with a gun. He was gonna let the monsters have us."

"What about Glenn and Daryl?"

Sam just shrugged. He hadn't paid attention to anyone but his mom.

Rick faced a quandary. At the sound of the shot, Jamaal had taken off running, and Rick had no idea where he was. Now, he had Judith and Sam to care for, and clearly Sam was in no position to watch over the baby.

"Sam," he said, "come with me right now. You have to run as fast as you've ever run, got it?" With that, Rick headed back toward the place he'd left the rest of the group, holding Judith with one hand and his gun in the other. Sam trundled along behind him, running as fast as he could and hoping he was fast enough to outrun the monsters.

* * *

As Jamaal approached he intersection with the truck, he saw a small dark shape dart in front of him and bury itself deep under a patch of thorny bushes. Unsure of what exactly he had seen, the tall man dropped to his hands and knees and peered under the leafy branches. Two scared brown eyes looked back at him. "Trigger?" he whispered.

The toddler put a finger to his lips. "Shhh! Hide!"

Jamaal smiled to himself. "Your mama trained you right. You hide, Trigger, and I'll come back for you in a minute."

But the toddler shook his head. "Day," he said.

Jamaal wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but he was positive that no walkers would be able to see or reach the boy in his hiding place. It was time to figure out what was going on. As quietly as possible, he crept toward the edge of the woods, looking for a place where he could assess the situation without being seen. He didn't know where Rick had ended up, but with shots fired, he wasn't going to wait for the man.

From his vantage point, he could see that there was one man standing in a truck bed with a rifle trained on one of the women from Rick's group—a blond, he wasn't sure what her name was. The Asian guy, the pregnant girl, and the other woman who had gone on the go-kart were standing nearby. There was no sign of Daryl, the one person from the go-kart group whose name Jamaal remembered.

Obviously, the guy on the truck was using the blonde as a hostage, and just as obviously, this wasn't going to end well unless someone eliminated him. The man with the gun had his back to Jamaal, meaning that it wasn't exactly a fair fight, but Jamaal didn't care. Knowing he would only get one shot, he crept as close as he dared and took careful aim. He squeezed the trigger and watched the guy in the camouflaged jacket fall when bullet passed through his head.

Startled by the sound of the shot, Jessie also dropped to the truck bed, not sure what was happening, but not at all sad to see the exit wound in Kinny's forehead.

At the same time, Glenn grabbed Carol and Maggie by their arms and half dragged them around to the other side of the truck. He had seen Jamaal for a split second before the shot—just long enough to understand what was happening.

"Nice shot," he said softly.

"Thanks," said Jamaal. "Where's the rest of your group?"

"The other guy took Daryl into the bar to get the food. The kids ran off into the woods to hide."

Feeling a little safer, Jessie poked her head a few inches above the truck bed. "We need to go find the kids before the noise draws in walkers."

"Trigger's hiding in a thorn bush back that way," Jamaal gestured with his head. "If the others are smart, they're doin' the same thing."

The three women looked at each other apprehensively. "Sam's smart, but he scares easy," Jessie said with an apologetic tone in her voice.

"We should go look," Maggie said.

"Hold up," Jamaal disagreed. "We've got to take care of that other guy in the bar first, the one who has Daryl. Also, Rick should be around here somewhere. He was with me, but we got separated."

Glenn shook his head. "Daryl can handle one guy. He'll be out any minute."

Right on cue, they saw Daryl peek cautiously around the doorframe as he attempted to see what was going on outside.

"You can come out, now" Glenn called. "Jamaal came out of nowhere and killed the other guy."

Still cautious, Daryl walked slowly toward the truck, stopping to pick up his bow and Glenn's gun on the way."Y'all okay?" he asked.

"We're fine; we just need to find the kids," Carol said.

Worried, Daryl asked, "Where's Trigger?"

"He's hiding in the woods back that way," Jamaal said. "I didn't see the others."

Just then, Rick and Michonne stepped out of the woods, both of them breathing heavily like they'd been running. Seeing everyone else gathered casually by the truck, they jogged over. After catching sight of Jessie's split lip, Rick ran toward her immediately.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Jessie said. "I know it looks bad, but I've had worse," she added with a half-hearted smile. "We've got to find Sam. He ran off into the woods with Judith."

"I already found them and took them back to the rest of the group," Rick said. "Can someone tell me what's going on here?"

Not wanting to waste any more time, Daryl slung his crossbow on his back and said, "Someone catch him up, I'm going to find Trigger."

Carol and Jamaal both chimed in, "Me, too," and followed on his heels.

Because he was the only one who actually knew where Trigger was, Jamaal rushed into the lead, but a second later his heart dropped in his chest. "No!" he roared. A walker was lying on the forest floor, arms outstretched under the very bush where the toddler had hidden. Jamaal dove onto the walker's legs and pulled him out from under the brush. Half a second behind him, Daryl slammed his knife through the walker's skull and then looked under the branches, calling, "Trigger!"

A second later, Daryl was back on his feet. "He ain't there!"


	10. Chapter 10 - Climb

**Climb**

"But he was just there!" protested Jamaal, as he flattened himself on the ground to look for Trigger.

Daryl walked around to the far side of the clump of bushes. "Here!" he exclaimed. "There's a trail, he came through here!" And without waiting for the others, he began following the signs that only he could see.

"Daryl, wait!" protested Carol, charging after him. When he slowed, she grabbed his arm. "Wait," she said sternly but with tears hovering in her eyes. "We have to check first."

"What are you talkin' about?" asked Daryl.

Carol visibly steeled herself, and then answered. "When Sophia was missing, the worst part was the waiting, the not knowing. And then it turned out she was gone all along, and all the hoping was for nothing." Her voice threatened to break as she continued, "We can't do that again."

Daryl nodded and followed her back the few steps to Trigger's former hiding place. Jamaal was still kneeling there, staring hopelessly at the last place he'd seen his fiancée's son. Together, Carol and Daryl rolled the walker to his back, and then, matter-of-factly, Carol began the grisly process of dissecting its abdomen. Remembering what Herschel had taught her so long ago in preparation for Judith's birth, she located the stomach and pulled it out through the incision she had made. Pulling out his knife, Daryl jumped in, and with no expression on his face, he cut through the stomach lining carefully as Carol held it.

Realizing their purpose, Jamaal became horrified. "Y'all are sick!"

"Trust me, it's better to know," Carol replied kindly.

"There's just a part of a raccoon and maybe somethin' else," Daryl reported gruffly. "Not enough to be a whole kid."

"Ok, then," said Carol, wiping her hands on her pants. "Now we know. What's the plan?"

Daryl rose to his feet. "I'm gonna follow that trail!" he answered, as if it should be obvious.

"Someone needs to let Rick and the others know what's going on," explained Carol. "I'll go. Meet us back at that intersection with the bar when you find him."

Rising from his knees in a fluid motion, Jamaal spoke up. "I'm going with Daryl."

"Fine, but stay outta my way," Daryl said he stalked of in the direction the prints led.

As Carol turned to head back to the group, Jamaal placed his hand on her shoulder. "Thank you," he said simply before releasing her and swiftly heading off behind Daryl.

* * *

Back at the intersection, Carol delivered the grim news. Although no one mentioned it, everyone from the original Atlanta group was thinking back to Sophia, and they kept an eye on Carol for signs that it was worrying her.

Rick announced that it was time for lunch, and with the haul from the bar, they had plenty to eat. They would decide what to do after they ate.

At this point in her pregnancy, Maggie was never very comfortable, but she decided that the least uncomfortable place to sit and eat would be in the truck bed with her legs propped up in front of her. Glenn joined her, of course, and she leaned against him as they shared cold cans of green beans and beef stew. He rested his hand on her belly idly, hoping to feel their child kick, but instead, he was startled to feel her muscles tense up unbelievably hard.

"Oh my God, what was that?" he asked.

"I'm pretty sure that was a contraction."

Glenn's face shifted from an expression of surprise to an expression on panic. "You mean it's time-the baby's coming?"

"No, not yet, at least I don't think so," said Maggie. "They call it Braxton-Hicks. Back at the convent, Lexie gave me a book that explained a bit. It's sort of my body's way of getting ready for the delivery. When it's time, they say the contractions will be more regular . . . and a lot stronger."

"That seemed plenty strong."

"Yeah," agreed Maggie.

Glenn hugged her close for a moment, and then went to talk to Rick, who didn't like the idea of Maggie giving birth in that intersection. He'd been mulling over their options, but now his mind was made up.

"Everyone, circle up!" he called. When they had all gathered, he continued, "Maggie could go into labor at any time, and those assholes who held our people hostage said they were part of a larger group. That group might come looking for them at any time, which means we can't all stay here. I'd like to get the truck loaded up and get as many of us as we can up to that clinic. But we also have Daryl and Jamaal and Trigger to think about, so that means someone has to stay behind."

Michonne interrupted before he could ask for volunteers. "I'll stay."

Rick nodded, and Carl chimed in, "Me too."

But Rick was far less certain about leaving his son behind. "I'd like to have you with me, son," he began.

"I want to do it for Daryl," Carl insisted. "And I'll be safe with Michonne, especially when Daryl and Jamaal get back."

Reluctantly, Rick agreed. "Alright, everyone else let's see how much we can pack on the truck and the go-karts."

"Actually the go-karts might not be necessary," Tara interjected with a twinkle in her eye. "The girls have found us a ride."

"Yeah, come check it out," put in Rosita, looking far happier than she had in days.

Behind the bar, covered with a tarp and then piles of branches, the two women had found a limousine. "Looks like somebody came here for a bachelor party," Tara observed.

"And now we are ridin' in style," added Rosita as the two friends shared an elaborate high five.

In no time at all, the group had the truck loaded with nearly everything that was salvageable from the bar. Glenn got the limousine running, and amazingly, it still had a full tank of gas. Everyone was excited about riding in the limo, so Rick offered to drive the truck. Somewhat surprisingly, Carol called shotgun. Glenn was going to drive the limo with Maggie up front, so everyone else rowdily clambered in back, hoping for an easy trip up the mountain.

As they drove away, Tara and Rosita popped up through the limo's sunroof, both of them dancing to music blaring from inside. Laughing, Michonne and Carl waved goodbye. Then they settled in to wait. Of course, they hoped that Daryl and Jamaal would be back any time, but by Michonne's estimate, Rick had left them with enough food to last four people at least five days. She hoped that would be enough.

* * *

Out in the woods, Daryl was surprised by how little trouble Jamaal was. Lexie's fiancé said barely anything, and he stayed well behind Daryl so that he wasn't messing up the trail left by the toddler. He was also unexpectedly good at moving through the underbrush quietly.

After about thirty minutes, Daryl's curiosity got the better of him. "You spent time in the woods before?"

"Naw, not before all this happened. I was a city boy. Chicago and then New York."

"You move through the woods pretty quiet for someone who's never been huntin'."

Jamaal laughed mirthlessly. "I was the only boy in my neighborhood who took ballet. And I was on the small side. I learned to sneak through all the alleys and vacant lots real quiet if I wanted to avoid getting beat up."

"Guess that explains it," Daryl acknowledged. They were silent again for a while until Daryl voice the next question that was eating at him. "Why'd you do ballet if it was so much trouble?"

Jamaal chuckled again. "I've been asked that a lot. When I was a teenager, I used to say it was for the girls. Other guys would to act tough, callin' me queer and worse. I used to say, 'I spent my Friday night in a small, sweaty room with two dozen beautiful girls all waitin' their turn for me to put their hands on 'em. You spent your Friday night ridin' around in a car with three other guys. So which of us sounds gay?'" For a moment, Jamaal sounded like the kid from the streets that he must have been then. "That didn't really help with the getting' beat up," Jamaal acknowledged ruefully.

Daryl smiled. "Had to feel good though."

"Yeah, it did," Jamaal agreed. "The truth is, I went on a field trip to see a dance company when I was seven years old. The first part was boring—a bunch of girls in tutus spinning around to classical music. But the second half was different—a contemporary piece. There were men and women leaping and stretching their bodies every which way, and music with a beat. I'd never seen anything like it before. I begged my mom until she let me take dance. Then I was good at it, and it was a way out." His voice trailed off as he got lost in thought for a moment. Drawn back to the present, he asked, "Isn't this awfully far for a two-year-old to have come on his own?"

"Wasn't exactly on his own," replied Daryl.

"What do you mean?"

"See this," said Daryl, pointing at the dirt. "That's walker tracks. One's chasin' 'im. We gotta hurry."

"Oh my God," exclaimed Jamaal, looking up.

"We'll find 'im," Daryl said reassuringly, still gazing at the ground.

"We did," said Jamaal. "Look."

Just ahead was a creek full of the mountain runoff from the recent snow. Precariously perched on a tree jutting over the bank was a very small boy. And at the base of the tree stood a walker, so intent on reaching the child that he was slowly pushing the tree up by its roots. It looked ready to topple any second.

"Oh, shit," said Daryl, and both men rushed forward.

* * *

Back at the intersection, Michonne and Carl had decided to hole up in the diner. The smell wasn't as bad as in the bar, and they also had found a checkerboard with most of its pieces. They chatted idly for a while as they pushed their chips around the board. Eventually, Carl brought up the topic that was weighing on his mind.

"This is just like when Sophia got lost."

"Yeah?" asked Michonne. "How so?"

"I forget that you weren't with us then," Carl said. "Sophia ran off into the woods, and my dad found her, just like Jamaal found Trigger. My dad had to leave her, but he told her to hide. Then when he came back she was gone. It's all the same."

"Doesn't mean it's going to end the same," said Michonne, who had heard the story of Sophia emerging from Hershel's barn.

"Daryl looked for her too," recalled Carl. "And me, that's how I got shot," he added with a smile. "And then we met Hershel and Maggie and Beth." He grew quiet, remembering that two of those people were now dead.

Michonne decided it was time to change the subject. "And now Maggie's about to have a baby. Do you think it's going to be a boy or a girl?"

"I kinda hope it's a boy."

* * *

On the road to the clinic, the novelty of riding in a limousine had worn off quickly. The road had quickly grown steep and began curving back and forth in an endless series of switchbacks. Eugene was feeling nauseous. Sam and Ron were bickering, and Jessie had a headache. Everyone was feeling like the limo wasn't quite as spacious as they had hoped it would be.

Up front, Maggie's contractions were becoming more regular. She tried to time them surreptitiously using Glenn's watch, but he noticed.

"How far apart are they?"

"Fifteen minutes. Still plenty of time," Maggie said with a smile.

"We'll get there," said Glenn.

"Of course we will."

But they were making very slow progress. In addition to the sharp turns, abandoned vehicles blocked the road in a couple of places, and the narrow road made getting past tricky. Even worse were the cars that had slid off the road, and the walker that had apparently fallen from higher up and was now caught in a tree dozens of feet off the ground. It flailed its arms and legs at the sound of the vehicles approaching, drawing Sam's attention.

"Don't look, baby," Jessie admonished him, when she saw him looking.

He turned his head around to face inside for a moment, but it wasn't long before his eyes were drawn back to the sight of the monster trapped in the trees. It seemed to be waiting for him.

In the truck, Rick and Carol rode in silence, each occupied by their own thoughts. Carol was consumed by two equal worries. First, that Rick, and by extension the rest of the group, would blame her for Lexie's death. Second, that the search for Trigger would end the way the search for Sophia had, and this time it would shatter Daryl. She didn't know if he could survive that again.

Rick was less worried about Daryl, believing his friend could take care of himself. He was concerned about Carol though, rightly divining that this search would remind her of her daughter. His most pressing concern, however, was Maggie. Although he was trying not to admit it to himself, he was terrified that her delivery would end the way Laurie's had.

As the two-vehicle caravan slowly inched its way up the mountain, they came to a spot where a large white SUV had rolled over on its roof and was blocking three-quarters of the road. Rick stopped the truck and got out to examine the situation before proceeding. Glenn soon joined him.

"It'll be a tight fit, but we can make it through. There's a bit of a shoulder here we can use," Rick observed.

"Yeah, OK" Glenn agreed, before adding, "Maggie's going into labor."

Rick clapped him on the shoulder. "We've gotta be close now. We'll get there."

Glenn nodded, and both men returned to their vehicles.

What they didn't realize was that the recent weather had destabilized the road. The freezing and thawing had opened tiny cracks in the soil and asphalt near the edge of the roadway, and though it looked solid, it was poised to slide away at any moment.

As Rick inched the truck forward and slowly maneuvered around the SUV, everything seemed to go fine at first. Suddenly, they heard a clunk from the rear of the pickup as the ground beneath the right rear tire gave way and the truck bottomed out. Thinking fast, Rick gunned the engine, and the three tires still on the road pulled them to safety.

The limousine wasn't as lucky. Because Glenn had been following closely behind Rick, the limo's front passenger tire was now spinning in space. From the back of the vehicle came a chorus of gasps and cries of fright. Doors were flung open on both sides of the car and everyone shifted towards the exits, causing the vehicle to become unbalanced and teeter precariously on the edge of the recently formed hole.

Jumping out of the truck, Rick yelled, "Everyone, stay inside!" Startled, they did as he said, but the limo continued to sway. "Move to the back if you can," Rick ordered. That stabilized the vehicle somewhat, but it was obviously only a short-term solution. Rick locked eyes with Maggie, whose seat was now balanced over the open air. "We'll get you out," he assured her.

At first, Glenn tried the obvious solution, putting the limo in reverse and attempting to back up. But with only one wheel still on the pavement, the front-wheel drive vehicle didn't have enough power to get out of the hole. Instead, spinning the driver's side wheel actually made things worse as more of the roadway fell away.

As Glenn and Rick frantically discussed strategies for getting everyone out without overbalancing the car, the situation grew worse. More of the soil, rocks, and roadway fell away and loudly tumbled down the cliff. The sounds of terror from the back of the limo grew louder, and the vehicle began swaying again.

Eugene suddenly popped his head through the top of the sunroof. "Use the winch in the back of the truck to pull us across," he said authoritatively. "It's the only chance to get us all out. If we start leaving one by one, it's sure to fall down the cliff before we can get Maggie out."

With no better options, Rick quickly put this plan into action, pulling out the winch cable and wrapping it tightly around the front bumper and frame of the limo. Carol drove the truck forward a few more feet, and then, on Rick's signal, Glenn gunned the engine as Rick threw the winch into gear.

The limousine darted forward, and soon both of its right-side wheels were dangling over the nothingness. The vehicle tilted right and then swung forward, banging into the far side of the hole. All the while, more rocks and roadway were slipping away. The limo now hung by the slender cable attached to its front end. The winch began to smoke and the truck slipped back a few inches. Rick pushed the winch to maximum power as Carol stepped on the accelerator inside the truck.

It was enough—barely. The effort pulled the limo's front tires back onto the roadway, and Glenn was able to use his engine to aid in the effort.

Just as the limo cleared the hole completely, the SUV that had been blocking the road began to shift. Soundlessly, it tipped into the hole, and then the group heard a rumble that became a roar as the vehicle's descent began an avalanche of rubble, trees, and rocks that slid down the face of the mountain, bouncing off each of the switchback turns along the way.

* * *

"Hey, ugly," Daryl yelled at the walker that had treed Trigger. As it turned, he shot an arrow through its head. But as the dead man fell, it jolted the base of the tree, causing a few more roots to snap.

"Day!" Trigger called cheerfully from up in the tree, unaware of the danger he was in. He started to crawl back down the tree, which was now leaning nearly parallel to the ground over the creek below.

"Stay there!" Daryl ordered.

Having continued forward when Daryl stopped to shoot his crossbow, Jamaal reached the tree. Holding onto it for support, he leaned over the edge of the creek and held his arms out to Trigger, saying, "Come on, I've got you."

Suddenly, they heard a strange rumble like an earthquake. Miles away, the avalanche was tearing down the mountain, and the tremors were carrying through the ground. With a sickening snap, more of the tree gave way. Jamaal dove for Trigger and managed to snag the boy's leg in one hand. He desperately clutched the tree in the other, but his momentum carried him into the creek.

The tree, now nearly snapped in two, was still connected to the bank by a thread. Jamaal was submerged in the rushing water up to his chest, but he had a solid grip on the toddler. "Here, take Trigger!" he called to Daryl.

Lying on his stomach on the muddy bank, Daryl reached out, stretching to take hold of the boy. The water threatened to wash Jamaal and Trigger away at any second, just as it had torn Lexie from him just a few days earlier. But somehow, Daryl was able to grab the boy's arm and pull him to safety.

With both hands now free, Jamaal could pull himself closer to the bank. Daryl helped him the rest of the way, and within a few seconds, both men sat safely on the muddy bank.

"What was that?" Jamaal asked, still panting from exertion.

"I don't know," Daryl replied. "But it wasn't good."

As Trigger scooted himself into Daryl's lap, Daryl looked over at Jamaal. "Thank you," he said sincerely. Jamaal nodded then added, "Thank you."

No longer afraid, Trigger joyfully clasped Daryl in a hug. "Day come!" he shouted excitedly.

With that, Daryl lost it, smiling as tears spilled from his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "Daryl will always come to get you."

* * *

Driving fast, the truck and limousine screeched to a halt beside a green, single-wide trailer with brown trim. A fading sign proclaimed this to be Appalachian Health, while a separate entrance to the small building led to the tiny joint OB-GYN/family practice office. Glenn gathered Maggie in his arms and rushed toward the door, which Rick was already kicking in.

Gun drawn, Rick quickly cleared the tiny trailer. Dust coated everything, making it obvious no one had been here for months at least. Carol quickly flung open cupboards and closets looking for supplies. Maggie panted out the breaths that were supposed to help with the labor pains, while Glenn held her hand. "You're doing great," he offered.

"I didn't think it would hurt this much," she said, pain etched on her features.

"What can we do?" Glenn asked Carol.

"Just keep breathing, Maggie," Carol said. "Your body is doing what it needs to do."

* * *

Loaded onto two of the go-karts, Daryl, Carl, Trigger, Michonne, and Jamaal pulled to a stop. The remains of a landslide covered the road in front of them, and a beat-up SUV poked its hood out of a pile of dirt and debris. Looking up, they could see where the avalanche had passed across the seemingly endless series of switchbacks.

"Guess we know what that rumbling was," observed Jamaal.

"What about the others?" worried Carl. "My dad, my sister, are they OK?"

The adults shared a few meaningful glances before Daryl replied. "I don't see the truck or the limo, so hopefully, they're fine. Rick woulda kept going to get Maggie to the clinic."

"These go-karts aren't going to be able to get any farther," said Jamaal.

"No, they won't," said Michonne, "but we might be able to get through on foot."

"Yeah, but what if there's another avalanche?" wondered Carl. "What are we going to do?"

"Now we climb," said Daryl, as if that settled the matter. He swung Trigger up onto his shoulders and headed across the huge pile of dirt covering the road, leaving the others to follow as best they could.


	11. Chapter 11 - Awake

**Awake**

Two days after collapsing in the cabin, Lexie opened her eyes again. She was surprised to realize that she felt warm, although she could still hear the storm raging outside. Her vision was fuzzy, but she saw a woman with close-cropped gray hair standing next to her bed.

"Carol," she croaked, her voice hoarse from disuse. "Where's Daryl?"

As Lexie's vision cleared, she realized she'd been mistaken. The woman beside her was far too stocky to be Carol. "I don't know who Daryl or Carol are," the unknown woman said. "I'm Janice. Most people call me Jan."

But Lexie was still too exhausted to talk. "Need to find Daryl, Trigger," she gasped before lapsing back into sleep.

When she woke again several hours later, she saw a different face next to her bed. This woman also had gray hair, but it was long and flowing. And while Jan had been wearing a practical flannel shirt, this newcomer had on a brightly patterned tunic that clashed with her equally bright long skirt. She hummed and knitted as she rocked in her chair.

"Hello?" Lexie meant it as a greeting, but the word came out more like a question.

"Oh, there you are, sweetie. We've been hoping you would come back to us." The voice seemed incredibly kind and grandmotherly.

"Daryl?" Lexie asked, hoping against hope that he had found her.

The woman patted her shoulder. "Daryl's not here, honey," she said in the same sweet voice, "so you'll have to wait a while before you can kill him."

This last part had Lexie confused. "I—"

"Shhh," the old woman insisted. "No more talking until you've eaten a little." She held a spoon to Lexie's lips, which Lexie obediently swallowed, discovering it to be warm broth.

"That's right," cooed the woman, as Lexie accepted a second spoonful.

"I don't want to kill Daryl, just find him," Lexie tried to explain. "Where are the rest of my clothes?"

"You can't fool me," the old woman whispered conspiratorially. "You've been talking about Daryl and pulling the trigger in your sleep—ever since you got here. But you're going to have to get your strength up before you can kill anyone."

Lexie tried to smile, but it seemed like more work than she remembered. "Trigger is my son," she said as tiredness washed over her again. "He's with Daryl."

"Oh, so that's why you want kill him," the woman said, as if she were beginning to understand.

"Don't want to kill anyone," argued Lexie, who was definitely on the verge of falling asleep again. "Love them both." And with that she gave up and fell back into unconsciousness.

The next time Lexie opened her eyes, she felt much less groggy. Judging from the light coming in the cottage window, it seemed to be morning. The storm had passed, and she could hear a few birds outside in the woods, as well as some sort bleating that seemed to be coming from underneath her feet.

Her friend with the knitting needles was still in the rocking chair next to the bed, but she had fallen asleep. Lexie could hear someone bustling around in another room though, so she decided to investigate. She rolled to her side and tried to push herself up, but the movement brought on a coughing fit like none she could remember.

Instantly, both of the women she had seen before were at her side, saying soothing things and imploring her not to get up. As the fit ended, Lexie suddenly became nauseous and vomited, barely making it into the trash can beside her bed.

When the nausea had passed, Lexie asked, "Where am I?"

"You showed up on our doorstep three nights ago," said Jan. "Looked like you'd been for a dip in the river and then frozen solid."

Lexie nodded, remembering. "I _was_ in the river."

"Well, that explains the pneumonia," said Jan.

Lexie looked up questioningly.

This time, the woman with the longer hair answered. "You've been coughing in your sleep, so we took a listen to your lungs. I think you must have inhaled some of the river water, and then it got infected."

"Are you a doctor or a nurse?" asked Lexie.

"No, but natural medicine is one of my hobbies," the woman said proudly.

"Don't get her started on her hobbies," Jan warned. "She'll talk your ear off."

"It's my hobbies that have been keeping you fed and warm these past months," came the indignant reply.

"I'll be in the kitchen," said Jan as she stalked out of the room. The other woman watcher her go with a smile.

"Are you two sisters?" wondered Lexie.

The woman with the long hair giggled. "Heavens, no, dear. We were lovers for twenty-five years. Then we got married and discovered we hated each other. Got divorced after just eleven months. Didn't even last a year." The knitting was back in her hands now, and the needles clacked as she talked. "Then weird things started happening, and dead people weren't staying dead anymore. It was so frightening. . . . I thought to myself, 'Well, if civilization is ending, I'm gonna need Jan.'" As an aside, she added, "I can't even kill a spider on my own." She paused a moment before continuing. "Funny thing is Jan felt the same way about me. All of the sudden, it seemed like a good idea to be back with someone who knew about things like pottery and canning and gardening and knitting."

It seemed like the woman might go on talking for quite some time, but Lexie had one more question she wanted to ask. When the other woman paused for a breath, she blurted, "What's your name?"

"Oh, forgive me," the woman said. "I should have said. My name's Alta, but I'm thinking about changing it again."

"Changing it . . . again?" wondered Lexie.

"Yes. I was Susan when I was born, but that didn't really suit me at all, so I became Valerie in high school. But then in my twenties, that didn't seem to fit any more. I called myself Mary Jane. Kind of a joke really, because we were smoking a lot of Mary Jane. . . ."

Alta's voice droned on and on, telling her life story. Lexie relaxed and let the sound wash over her without really listening. She liked these women, and it was clear they had taken good care of her. She had been unbelievably fortunate, but she couldn't stay here. She had to find Daryl and Trigger.

* * *

Unfortunately, recovering from pneumonia took far longer than Lexie hoped. Without antibiotics, she was forced to rely on Alta's oils and potions. It was six weeks before she could get out of bed, and five more days before she had the strength to walk outside. She was still vomiting with some regularity, which alarmed Alta and Jan more than it bothered Lexie, who was beginning to suspect that the nausea had nothing to do with her pneumonia. She was also very weak, so the older women were constantly making treats to try to get her to eat more.

The three of them were sitting at the breakfast table one morning when Alta made an announcement. She cleared her throat to get their attention, and then pronounced, "I have discovered my new name," she said with a self-satisfied smile. "It's Charity."

"Don't you think that one's a little obvious?" Jan wondered gruffly. "And I'm not sure Lexie wants to be thought of as a charity case."

"Lexie isn't really the point," replied Alta, now Charity, with a haughty tone.

"No?" Jan wondered skeptically.

"No, I just realized that what the world needs now is a little more charity."

Jan made a harrumphing sound, but didn't argue any more. Lexie had grown used to their bickering, realizing it was one of the ways they expressed love for each other.

"Thank you, both of you," Lexie said, "for your charity, but I don't want to impose on you any longer than I have to."

"Don't be silly," Jan said. "You'll stay here as long as you want. This is the safest place you'll find. No one comes here, not even the dead."

"Yes, and we have crops and the goats in the basement," put in Charity. "This really is the best place on earth."

"I know it is," said Lexie appreciatively. "I've seen what's out there. But my son is also out there. And Daryl. I have to find them."

Jan and Charity shared a glance. "We know," Jan said. "We know what it is to need your family. And we want to help you. It's just that you've got a hard road ahead of you."

"That's not just a metaphor," said Charity. "We actually mean the actual road is hard."

"Get the map," ordered Jan.

After clearing aside the breakfast plates, the women spread a topographical map of the area on the table. They had penciled in several landmarks and notes.

"Here's where we are," Jan pointed to an X on the map. "You came from the island house in the river to the north here, and you know about this creek here to the west that helps keep the dead away from our cabin. The water in both places is higher than usual, probably because the dam is out. The last time you saw your people they were somewhere around here." She wiggled her hand across the north side of the river. "Back before, there were half a dozen bridges here, here, here, couple more over here," she pointed at the relevant places on the map. "Now, there's just one. Right here." Jan indicated a spot about 20 miles west of the island house.

"This would be the best place to cross," she continued, "except that a group has taken up residence there. Moved in about six months ago. This group isn't like the one you were with. The men are all criminals—rapists, murderers, thieves, you name it. There's women with them, but they're more like prisoners. A lot of them are actually in chains. Anyone comes to the bridge, they rape the women and children, maybe even the men too, and steal everything they have. Once in a great while, they let someone cross, but they always make them pay. The big irony is, they call themselves 'The Family.'"

When she heard that name, Lexie stiffened. Jan and Charity looked at her questioningly. "I know about the Family," she said quietly. "I was with them before I was at the convent."

Charity patted her hand. "I'm so sorry, dear," she said.

Lexie nodded and quickly wiped at her eyes. "So that way's out," she said. "How else can I get to the other side?"

"Well, you could try for a boat at the lake," offered Jan. "Could be there's a canoe or a kayak hidden at one of the cottages. I've been up there and looked around though, and I haven't ever seen one. The Family has come down the river to the lake by boat to scavenge, and you can bet they didn't leave much, especially not a way for someone to bypass their bridge."

"How do you know so much about them?" Lexie wondered. "I thought you two never leave the cabin."

"We don't leave often, it's true," acknowledged Jan. "But I leave now and then when we need something we can't make ourselves. The great thing about being a woman over 50 is that you become invisible, and these days, if you make yourself look like a walker, you're doubly invisible." She cracked a smile. "Besides, I was always good at sneaking around in the woods. I've seen them run their boats up the river, and I've talked to a couple of folks who tangled with the Family and lived to tell the tale. I tried sneaking up to the bridge myself and got just close enough that I believed everything I'd heard."

"So boats and bridges are out, what else?"

"You could try to go around the lake," suggested Jan. "I've never gone all the way around myself, so I can't tell you what you might find. The towns here on the south shore are pretty small, but as you get around to the east side, you'll find a bigger town. Lake Charlotte, it's called—real popular with the tourists. The lake's seven miles across at the widest, so you're looking at a 20-mile trek at least before you get back around to where you lost your folks, with dead along the way and maybe hostiles too."

Lexie chewed her lip for a moment, thinking.

Charity, who had been unusually quiet during this conversation, piped up, "If you ask me dear, the best option is just to wait until August or so—"

"August!" Lexie interrupted, horrified. "Trigger will be almost three by then. I can't wait another six months. Who know how far away they'll be by then! How will I ever find them?"

"Well dear, I'm not sure how you're going to find them now," replied Charity. "But if you must go, the water in the river gets much lower towards the end of the summer. By then you would be strong enough to swim across—if you still felt the need to go."

"If I still felt the need to go?!" Lexie usually liked Charity, but she was finding this latest discussion infuriating.

"Time heals," Charity said softly. "You have a safe place here. A home if you want it."

Hot, angry tears stung Lexie's eyes. "I'm not like you, Charity. I can't become a different person on a whim. I can't just change my name and stop loving my son and Daryl." Ignoring Charity's protests, she stomped outside.

Looking for something to do, she spied Jan's axe next to the woodpile and decided to work out some of her anger. She hoisted the axe and gave it one or two good swings, but the adrenalin that had fueled her first burst of energy didn't last long. She was too weak for a third swing. After struggling with the axe for a few moments, she sank to the ground and gave in to her sobs.

Jan found her there, still crying, a few minutes later. "Charity means well, but she never really had a family other than me," she offered by way of explanation.

Lexie didn't have anything to say to that.

"We know you have to find your people," Jan continued. "We're just worried about you. We worry like a couple of old women," she finished with a smile.

Lexie gave the barest hint of a smile back.

"But there is one thing I can do to help," Jan said in her practical voice. "I spent thirty years coaching softball and sometimes basketball and volleyball too. If there's one thing I know, it's how to whip young women into shape. We'll start training today."

"Not yet—tea first," said Charity, who had silently glided out from the house carrying a steaming mug which she handed to Lexie.

"I'm not sure tea is going to help," said Jan.

"Tea helps most things, especially when accompanied by an apology," countered Charity. Turning back to Lexie, she added, "And I'm very sorry for upsetting you."

"It's not your fault," Lexie mumbled before sipping the tea, which really was quite good.

* * *

Jan kept her promise, and soon had Lexie running laps, doing pushups and sit-ups, and driving knives into pieces of wood meant to simulate walkers. On occasion, Lexie would have to stop and vomit before continuing with her training, which just made her that much more determined to find Daryl and Trigger as soon as possible. She found herself daydreaming about them often, imagining what it would be like when she found them again.

It took only two weeks before Jan was convinced that Lexie was ready to head out on her own, and she said so over dinner, suggesting that Lexie leave early the next morning with the backpack that she and Charity had gotten ready for her.

"Are you sure she's ready," fretted Charity. "She still seems to be awfully sick."

"She'll get stronger as she hikes," said Jan. "She's as ready as she's going to be."

Out on the trail, Lexie found that Jan was right. As she travelled, she felt stronger and stronger, despite the vomiting.

Her friends had loaded her pack with everything they thought she might need (including an assortment of Charity's teas for a variety of ailments). Following Jan's advice and her hand-drawn map, Lexie was skirting through the woods a good ways south of the lake. The chances of running into walkers—or the living—was less in the woods. Eventually she would need to head up to where she could see the lake in order to get her bearings, but for now, this was safer.

It was slower going than she had expected. She knew she was still weak, but she expected she would be able to make at least 10 miles a day. But between her fully loaded pack, the ruggedness of the terrain, and the short days, she only traveled about five miles the first day and the second.

On the morning of the third day, she hit the road that was her sign to head north. She followed the pavement, but stayed well back in the trees. As she moved toward the lake, she began to run into walkers. The first two she dispatched without trouble, but by the third, she was breathing heavily. If she ran into a larger group, she didn't think she would survive. Following Jan's advice, she slit open the abdomen of the third walker and smeared its blood all over her clothing and gear. She had a spare change of clothes in the pack, but everything she owned was going to smell for the foreseeable future.

Camouflage had worked for her before, but she had never tried disguising herself as a walker. She tensed the first time she encountered one in the woods, but it proceeded by without giving her a glance.

As the day wore on, she ran into more walkers—larger groups than she had seen so far on her trip. None of them paid her any attention, and she began to feel invincible.

By dinner time, she began to encounter the first lake cottages. She was also beginning to smell more like herself. The exertion of the day's hike was causing her to sweat, and the stench of the dead walker was beginning to wear away.

She was paying little attention when a female walker headed toward her. She assumed it would turn aside like the others had, but it didn't. Reaching out, it latched onto the front straps of her backpack and pulled her in for the bite.

Unprepared, Lexie struggled to push the walker away with one hand while unsheathing her knife with the other. Eventually she got the knife free and pressed it through the walker's skull, but the commotion was drawing in more walkers. At least four were headed straight for her.

Thinking fast, she climbed up onto a cottage porch where she would have the high ground. Heart pounding, she took down the first walker that approached, but a second managed to grab a fistful of Lexie's long blonde hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail. Screaming in pain, she kicked sideways at the walker as her back arched. She and the walker fell together, tumbling down the porch steps, and she heard the sickening snap of a breaking bone. Fortunately, it was the walker's leg, not hers. But she hadn't escaped unscathed. A pain in her ankle was going to make it difficult to stand and fight.

She slashed with her knife and managed to hit the dead man in the eye. As its grip on her hair relaxed, she noticed a key hider under the porch. She scrambled over and grabbed it, then hobbled up the steps and let herself into the cottage just as two more walkers were nearing the building. She closed and locked the door behind her, remembering too late that there might be walkers inside as well.

Across the room, a corpse slipped out of a rocking chair, a pile of yarn falling to the floor as it lunged for Lexie. With its long hair and tattered but flowing clothes, the female walker reminded her eerily of Charity, and Lexie gulped back a sob as she forced her knife through its skull.

Gathering her wits, she cleared the rest of the small cabin before deciding to head upstairs for the night. The stench of her own clothes was bad enough without having to add the smell of the dead walker on the first floor as well.

Exhausted, she collapsed into a bed and fell right to sleep without even taking the time to eat.

The next morning, Lexie discovered that the damage from the previous day's fight was worse than she had hoped. Her ankle had swollen to twice its normal size. Seeing the brusing, her stomach heaved, and she vomited once into a trash can near the bed.

She wasn't going anywhere today. She couldn't walk like this, let alone fight off walkers. She nibbled on some soda crackers and elevated her leg while working on a jigsaw puzzle she found in the bedside table.

* * *

Two days later, she had finished the thousand-piece puzzle, as well as several trashy romances she found in the cabin. More importantly, her ankle was closer to its usual size, and although it still sported green and yellow bruises, she felt like it could bear her weight.

Flinging open the cabin door, she took down the two walkers who had been patiently waiting on the porch for her return. Quickly, she covered herself in their blood before any more could show up.

As she walked, she was even slower than before—and much more cautious about the walkers. She also stopped to check around each cabin, looking in vain for a canoe or kayak that could help her cross the lake. Around noon, she killed another lone walker and again covered herself in its innards before eating her lunch. She wasn't going to risk allowing the camouflage to wear off again.

But by the end of the day, she guessed she had only made a couple of miles. "At least you're alive," she whispered to herself, "and a little bit closer to Trigger and Daryl."

Saying their names aloud brought tears to her eyes. Her volatile emotions were just another confirmation of what she already knew. Her pants were already feeling snug, and she hadn't had a period since arriving at Jan and Charity's cabin.

She was pregnant.

Acknowledging the reality of her situation brought up a fresh round of tears, and she wrapped an arm protectively around her belly as she leaned back against a tree and wept.

* * *

It took four more days of hobbling and hiking before Lexie made it to the east end of the lake. This side was far hillier, which had slowed her already glacial pace even more. Fortunately, there were fewer walkers in the hills; they all tended to congregate in the valleys and right along the lakeshore where the ground was flat and animals sometimes came to drink. She also found plenty of cabins built up high for the views, so she didn't have to sleep outdoors, which was nice because even though it was now officially spring, the nights were still plenty chilly.

It was nearly evening when she reached the summit of the tallest hill she had climbed so far—really it was more like a small mountain. A sign she had passed along the way promised scenic views of Lake Charlotte, and she had hoped she would arrive before it was too dark to see anything. Spotting the parking lot and the restrooms for the overlook, she jogged the last few yards, eager to take in the view before finding someplace to stay for the night.

As she neared the railing at the edge of the overlook, her steps slowed and her jaw dropped open. This wasn't what she had expected at all. Yes, she could see the picturesque lake town and the water beyond, glowing pink as the sun started to descend. But every foot of the town was covered in walkers, many of them dressed like vacationers with shorts, sandals, and T-shirts with slogans.

How could so many walkers have come to be in such a small town?

It was bigger than any herd Lexie had ever seen—closer to what she'd imagined when hearing Daryl's stories about Atlanta and Alexandria. She couldn't possibly get through them all, could she?

Leaning over the handrail, she followed the road leading down the hill with her eyes. This side was far steeper than the slope she had climbed, and the road was the only passable route down. Near the bottom, she could see a fire truck and a couple of ambulances near an overturned bus and several other vehicles. They had effectively blocked off the road, bottling up most of the walkers in the town. A few of the more active walkers were scaling the cliff, but Lexie could tell that even if she were somehow able to remove the roadblock, most of the walkers would continue milling about in town where it was flat unless something lured them up the hill. Maybe if she had more people with her she could come up with a plan that would clear the path, but on her own with limited supplies she could think of no way to clear out the walkers or get through.

"I'll just have to go around," Lexie said aloud, standing up straighter as she made the decision. Sure, it would take a little longer, but what options did she have?

Nearby was a pair of coin-operated binoculars. A few minutes of scrounging in the dirt nearby turned up a couple of quarters that Lexie hastily inserted in the slot. She first turned them toward the lake. Of course, it was too far to swim all the way across, but perhaps she could wade or swim along near the shore until she got past the town of Lake Charlotte.

"Crap," she said, aloud again, as she caught sight of the shore. Dozens of walkers waded through the water, some of them heading out until the water was over their heads, apparently in pursuit of the ducks and geese. Swimming through that would risk running into unseen walkers who could be reaching up from down below. The thought sent shivers down her spine.

She then rotated the binoculars to the southeast. She would simply have to bypass the town by land. But of course, that wouldn't be easy either. The hill she was on formed the end of a long ridgeline that stretched away as far as she could see. Steep and rocky, it would take forever to climb around that way, especially since she didn't have a rope.

Walkers covered the valley below as far as she could see with the binoculars. Knowing her time was about to run out, she swung the binoculars wildly this way and that, hoping to spot something, anything that would give her an idea for how to get past this town. All too soon, she heard a click and the view went dark.

Dejected, she wandered over to a nearby abandoned car and sat on the hood. "I guess it's down to getting past the Family or waiting for August," she whispered. From inside her abdomen, she felt a gentle nudge. Surely it was too early for that, wasn't it? She counted in her head and came up with ten weeks, maybe twelve, far too early to feel a kick.

Still, it was a reminder. She wasn't alone out here, and she needed a way to find Rick's group—soon.


	12. Chapter 12 - The Family

**The Family**

Lexie spent the night in one of the cars at the overlook. She planned to head back to Jan and Charity's cabin in the morning to decide her next move. Checking the vehicles, she discovered one with the keys in the ignition and a half tank of gas, so she decided she might as well drive back as far as she could. After abandoning the vehicle on the road nearest the cabin, she still had nearly a full day's hike to reach her destination. Still, the trip took less than two days altogether, which seemed fairly ridiculous in comparison to how long it had taken her on foot.

It was nearing dinnertime as she approached the cabin, and she was looking forward to the hot meal she would find inside. But when she knocked on the door, no one answered.

Pulling the spare key from where she knew it was hidden under the eaves, she let herself inside. _Maybe they went on a run,_ she thought to herself. But even as she considered the possibility, it seemed extremely unlikely that Charity would have gone with Jan to look for supplies.

"Hello?" she called to the empty house. The only sound that came in reply was the nanny goat bleating in the basement. Heading down the stairs, Lexie saw that it hadn't been fed or milked in at least a day, maybe more. Obviously, this should be her first priority, but she hadn't actually milked the animal herself before. She gave the task a half-hearted try and managed to get some usable milk, but the whole process left her and the goat both a little uncomfortable.

Back on the ground floor, she looked everywhere for some sign of where the women might have gone but found nothing. Everything was put away neatly, which led her to believe they had left on purpose. For a brief moment, she let herself wish that Daryl were there to help her track them. Knowing that those kinds of thoughts would just leave her more upset, she quickly turned her attention back to the situation at hand.

The cupboards were still full, so she made herself some dinner, heating up a can of soup on the wood-burning stove. She found the topo map the women had shown her before and spread it on the table once again.

Should she wait for Jan and Charity? Go looking for them? Head out on her own?

It might be smarter to wait, but she had no idea when or if her friends were coming back. Having wasted so much time on the attempted trip around the lake, she was impatient to get underway. And as much as she dreaded another encounter with the Family, she knew that putting it off wouldn't help.

Still considering her options, she washed and dried her dishes. Inevitably, her thoughts strayed back to her time at the convent when she and Daryl spent so much time on the same chore. Just like that, she knew what she had to do. She loved Jan and Charity, but she loved Daryl and Trigger more. She would leave in the morning.

* * *

Stronger from her hiking and with her ankle now healed, Lexie made good time as she headed west. Not too long after crossing the creek to the west of Jan and Charity's place, she happened upon a walker. After taking it down, she quickly covered herself in its blood.

Using the sun as a guide, she veered northwest from the creek, hoping to run into the river and use it to guide her toward the bridge. She figured she had gone about two miles when she heard sounds of movement somewhere ahead. Expecting a walker, she drew her knife, but on the off chance it was someone alive, she adopted the halting gait of the dead.

As she entered a small clearing, she could see a body lying at the far end—a body wearing a garish purple skirt that she recognized. "Charity!" Lexie called as she broke into a run.

Drawing closer, she could see that her friend was covered in her own blood. Two dead walkers lay nearby, and another walker was approaching from behind. Acting quickly, Lexie went first to the walker and put her knife through its temple. She then turned back to the figure on the ground.

"Charity, what happened?" she asked. Placing her hand to her friend's forehead, she could feel that the woman who had nursed her so tenderly was burning up with a fever.

Charity's words confirmed what Lexie already knew. "Got bit," she said, her breathing labored. "Shoulder."

Twitching Charity's clothing aside, Lexie could see the wound. Fighting back her emotions, she poured some water from her canteen onto the injury and began cleaning it as if that would help prevent the inevitable.

"Where's Jan?" Lexie asked next, fearing what the answer might be.

"I wanted to go fishing," Charity said softly, a gentle smile on her face. "Jan said OK." She paused for a breath before continuing the story. "Family came down the river. Jan told me to run. I got away, but then—walkers."

She was panting for breath now, and Lexie knew Charity was running out of time. "But where's Jan?" she prodded.

"Family took her." Charities eyes closed, but she wasn't done talking. "We thought we were safe," she said as a tear escaped from her eyelids. "No place is safe."

With another bright smile, Charity opened her eyes again briefly. "I have a new name," she began. Her lips started to form another word, but she never finished. Lexie allowed herself a sob, and then drew out her knife to do what she must.

* * *

Lexie didn't take the time to bury the body. With Jan in the Family's hands, her course was clear. And Lexie would need all the time and energy she had if she were going to help Jan escape and somehow get them both to safety. She didn't like leaving Charity out in the open, but she had to put the needs of the living over the needs of the dead.

Walking as fast as she could, she passed the road that was about halfway between the cabin and the Family's bridge. Her original plan had been to camp for the night just past the road, but she still had a couple of hours of daylight left. Spotting a walker, she coated herself in its blood before continuing on at a more measured pace. The fact that she looked like one of the dead wouldn't stop the Family from killing her if they spotted her, but it would stop them from trying to take her captive, which might be an even worse fate.

Luck was with her. She figured she had made five more miles before the dwindling light made it necessary to stop. Knowing that she was too close to the Family to be safe on the ground, she climbed a nearby oak whose spreading branches would offer some concealment. Using her belt, she attached herself to a branch as best she could, hoping that it would prevent her from falling in her sleep. Draping her sleeping bag around her, she leaned back against the tree trunk and tried to get some sleep.

After a quiet night, she ate a quick breakfast while scanning the map. It looked like there were several buildings on her side of the river. Most of the living who wanted to cross the bridge would likely be coming from the south or the north, the direction the road ran, so she expected the Family would have most of its lookouts fanned out in those directions. She would be coming from the east, which could help her avoid detection—although she was sure they would have a few people there as well.

If she could fool the Family's scouts into thinking she was a walker—and that was a big if—she might be able to get close enough to use one of the buildings for cover while she tried to come up with a plan for rescuing Jan and getting both of them across the river. It was a crappy strategy, and she knew it. But it was also the only thing she could think of.

Sticking to the deepest cover she could find, she approached at a snail's pace, zigzagging across the landscape and stopping any time she heard a noise in the distance. Twice she caught the sound of human voices. In both cases, they belonged to young men the family had sent out to scout. She watched one pair shoot a stray walker and breathed a prayer of thanks that they hadn't seen her before she saw them.

Looking out for walkers seemed to be these teenagers' primary responsibility, and neither group spotted her. Just to be safe, she waited long after each set had passed by before moving on.

At this pace, it took her nearly all day to reach the buildings on the south side of the river, but that was fortunate because the light was beginning to grow dim as she got closer to the area where it was likely someone might spot her. Noticing a three-story building that backed up to the woods, she bolted for the back door and quietly eased herself inside.

Hearing no shouts from outside, Lexie began to breathe more easily, assuming no one had seen her approach. She found a staircase and began to climb, looking for a window where she could keep a watch on the road below and possibly see what was happening at the bridge. The building, which probably had once housed a factory, was falling to pieces. Cupboards full of chemicals lined the walls, their battered doors hanging askew or missing completely. Holes dotten the floor, and in more than one place she could see the sky through the roof.

Lowering herself into position beneath a broken window on the top floor, she wondered if she should re-locate to a different building. The nights were still cool, and this dilapidated structure wouldn't provide much shelter—not to mention the very real danger of collapse.

But almost as soon as she considered that option, she dismissed it and instead began feeling lucky beyond belief that she had happened on a building that was in such disrepair. As she watched from her window, she saw men, women, and children emerge from all of the other buildings on the street. _They must be living there!_ she thought to herself, feeling stupid that she hadn't even considered that possibility when hatching her plan to get close to the bridge.

Communal eating had been a way of life back when Lexie had been with the Family, and it appeared their practice hadn't changed. However, the group had grown considerably. In her day, the Family had included about a dozen men, plus the women and children each claimed as his own. Now as she watched them head to a covered picnic area in a park at the river's edge, Lexie estimated there were more than fifty people gathering for dinner.

Reaching into her pack, she extracted her binoculars and one of Charity's homemade granola bars to munch on. With the glasses, she could clearly see that several of the women were chained hand and foot—just as she had been. Others seemed to be resigned to their fate, and while they weren't handcuffed, their faces bore the look of those who had long since been defeated.

One of the younger diners stood up and took a bucket to a pen near the picnic area. Lexie guessed it was the holding area for women and children who hadn't yet been "claimed." This was where she would expect to find Jan, and sure enough, as the bucket came close, she saw an arm wearing one of Jan's trademark flannel shirts emerge from the wooden slats to take hold of the offered food. The sight caused Lexie's thoughts to drift back.

* * *

 _"Wooo-eee! This one's mine!" said a fat, middle-aged white man who went by the name Slim._

 _"You got the last one. It's my turn," objected Bobby, a much thinner and younger man with a slight southern accent._

 _"Like hell it is," replied Slim, balling his hands into fists as he prepared for the confrontation. "Anyway, the last one's dead, so I need a new one."_

 _"Ain't my fault you kill 'em as fast as you get 'em," came the reply. Clearly, Bobby was intimidated by Slim, but he still wasn't willing to let a prize like Lexie go without a fight. It looked like the brawl would begin any second._

 _But then a resonant, calm voice silenced the squabbling. "I'll take her. And I'll take better care of her than either of you would have."_

 _Through eyes swollen from an earlier beating, Lexie scrutinized the newcomer. Although only of average height, the black man was far more muscular than either of the other two, and neither of them seemed inclined to object to his claim. His clothes were clean, and his hair and beard had been trimmed. Lexie guessed he might have been moderately well-off before. Still, there was something about his eyes that struck fear deep inside her._

 _"We aren't going to have any trouble, now, are we?" he asked in a quiet, gentle tone that somehow also managed to convey a hint on menace. Lexie shook her head._

 _"Good," he said as he stepped inside the cage with her and fastened manacles on her arms and legs. "Let's get you some dinner, and then we can get better acquainted." He tugged on her chains forcing her to rise and follow, though it was the last thing she wanted to do._

* * *

Back in the present, Lexie contemplated what would happen to Jan. No one had claimed her yet, probably because she was too old to be very attractive as a sex slave. Until someone did take her, anyone in the Family had the right to use her any way they saw fit. It was only a matter of time before one of the more violent members of the group took it into his head to torture and kill her.

Lexie gnawed on her fingernails. She needed a plan—fast. But first she needed more intel, and that meant finding out what Jan knew.

As night fell, Lexie tried to sleep a bit, but she still suffered from the nightmares that had plagued her ever since her own time with the Family. With no trouble at all, she came wide awake around 2:30 in the morning, which she judged would be the best time to try to reach Jan.

She took the time to change out of the clothes encrusted with walker blood and put on fresh pants and a shirt from her pack. This close to the bridge, looking like a member of the Family would serve her far better than looking like a walker. Leaving her backpack and taking only her knife, she carefully exited the building and headed out into the night.

Rather than slinking in the shadows, she walked as if she had every right to be on the street, which she figured would be the best form of camouflage, at least until she got close to Jan's cage. As she made her way, she noticed several guards, but they were all facing out, away from the collection of buildings, unaware that they had an intruder in their midst. Nearing the park by the bridge, Lexie headed for a clump of bushes as if she were looking for a place to pee.

There was a lone guard near Jan's pen. Lexie thought she remembered him from her time with the Family, but she couldn't be sure in the dark. If they still did things the way they used to, she knew he would take a lap around the perimeter about once an hour or so as a way to look for trouble and help keep himself awake. He wouldn't be gone long, but that would be her only chance to contact Jan.

After waiting in the bushes for about a half hour, she began to worry that the Family had changed their procedures. But then, the guard stood and stretched before heading off briskly to the east. Lexie hoped he planned to walk all the way around the park, but she had no time to waste. Taking advantage of every dark shadow she could find, she slinked up to the wooden cage.

Because Jan was sleeping next to the bars, Lexie could just reach a piece of her friend's shirt. She tugged it lightly, whispering, "Jan!"

Her friend came awake instantly, reaching for her knife, although, of course, the Family had taken away. "Lexie, what are you doing here? You can't let them catch you!" Jan said, her voice barely audible.

"Listen, we don't have much time. I couldn't get around the lake, so I had to come back this way. I found Charity. Jan, I'm so sorry, but she was bit." Lexie paused for a moment, but Jan didn't respond to the news other blinking her eyes and hardening her scowl. "I've come to get you out of here and both of us across the bridge," Lexie continued. "I need to know what you know."

That was a lot of information to lay on someone in a hurry, but always practical, Jan got right down to the job of telling Lexie what she knew rather than succumbing to emotion. "The bridge is mined," she began. "Even if we could sneak across in the night, we'd likely blow ourselves up. I've counted thirty-five men, plus some half-grown boys playing at being men. The women all seem to be prisoners or as good as. There were two other women in here with me, but they both got claimed. Watch is in three shifts, and they've got men with guns on both sides of the river. Spare ammo and weapons seem to be in the old gas station. Boats are at the dock here. That's all I know so far."

"That's plenty," said Lexie, already beginning to hatch a plan. "I'm getting both of us out of here. Be ready to run. Probably tomorrow night."

Lexie turned to go, but Jan reached an arm through the bars to grab her. "Lexie," she hissed, "I'm not going with you."

"You can't stay here!" Lexie protested.

"No, I mean I don't want to cross the river. I'm going back home."

"They'll find you."

"They haven't so far," objected Jan. "And it's where I lived with Charity. It's my home."

Lexie nodded, chewing on her lip. This would complicate the plan, but she understood Jan's feelings. "I'll see what I can do," she promised before heading back into the night.

* * *

The next day Lexie alternated between keeping an eye on the Family and preparing for that night's escape. Her plan was risky, but she didn't see any other way to get both herself and Jan to safety. She probably wouldn't have tried it back when she was being held captive. All it took back then to make her fall into line was a few beatings. After that, she never even tried to escape until the night Trigger was born.

But that was when she didn't have anything to live for. She had given up hope of ever being reunited with Jamaal; frankly, she had given up hope that he was even still alive. The world had been taken over by the vicious—both the living and the dead—and staying alive was her only goal.

That had all changed after Trigger was born. She wouldn't raise a child to think that criminal behavior was normal. If he had to grow up surrounded by monsters, she would choose to be surrounded by the dead monsters, not the living ones.

The arrival of Rick's group had revised her thinking again. For the first time, she dared to believe that she and Trigger could have something like a normal life with normal people. And then Daryl made her hope that she could find love in this new world. It was worth risking anything, everything, to get back to her family.

However, first she would have to find a way around this other, far different Family. As she watched the first members of the group emerge from the buildings around her and make their way toward the picnic area in the park, she sighed and collected the materials she would need to put her plan into action. The time to act had come, and it was no use second-guessing herself now.

She dressed in her blood-stained clothing, to which she had carefully added a few rips and tears to make it seem more tattered. She slipped out the back door of her hiding place and back into the nearby woods. Skirting around the buildings and staying well back in the brush, she carefully made her way close to the park by the bridge.

From her place of concealment, she could see that Jan was still in her pen. A few of the men were taunting her, asking how an old woman could have survived so long. They dared each other to have sex with her, and one or two looked like they were considering it.

Lexie had intended to wait until the meal was over for the next phase in her plan. Chewing her lip, she wondered if she should go into action early, before things got any worse for Jan.

Then, the decision was made for her. From behind her, she heard a voice say, "Well, what have we here?"

Turning around, she felt only dread. Standing in front of her were Slim and Bobby, the two men who had argued over her before she had been claimed so many years ago.

Once again, she'd been caught by the Family.


	13. Chapter 13 - The Bridge

**The Bridge**

Bobby began the questioning. "Where you been, girl? Where's Jake?"

Lexie flinched as she heard the name of Trigger's father. He had forced her to say his name when he raped her, and now she tried not to even think it. "He didn't make it," she answered.

"Jake didn't make it, and you did?" Slim wondered. "That don't seem exactly likely to me."

Lexie judged it better not answer.

"What about the baby?" Bobby asked. "Did Jake's spawn survive." He spat on the ground for emphasis.

Shaking her head, Lexie answered, "He's not around anymore either." She'd always been a terrible liar. Back in her school days, the nuns always knew when she wasn't telling the truth, but she hoped that this phrasing was close enough to the facts that she wouldn't get caught.

"He went soft," Bobby opined. "I told you, Slim, this girl made old Jake soft. He prob'ly saved her life or something stupid like that. Then she was too stupid a bitch to keep her own kid alive." He smiled, adding, "And now, she's all mine."

"Whaddya mean, all yours?" Slim sputtered. "I saw her first. I'm the one that's got a gun on her."

"Yeah, but you didn't claim her," retorted Bobby. "And I did." He stepped closer to the large man, obviously no longer as intimidated by him as he had once been.

Slim's reply was a quick right punch to Bobby's jaw. Instantly, the two men were rolling on the ground, each trying to knock the other out.

Lexie fought to keep her expression neutral. She'd been hoping for an altercation like this—counting on it, actually. Getting caught had always been part of her plan, although she hadn't meant for it to happen quite like this.

Soon, other men from the Family grabbed hold of Bobby and Slim, pulling them apart. With two men laying claim to the same woman and neither willing to back down, they would solve the disagreement the way they always did—with an organized fight out in the open that everyone could watch. In the meantime, they would lock the new girl in the pen.

Enjoying the pat down thoroughly, Bobby searched Lexie for weapons. He quickly pulled her knife from her belt and then went through her pockets, finding nothing but a tube of personal lubricant. The find made him laugh aloud. "Don't you worry, none, honey, we'll get plenty of use for this later," he promised her before replacing it in her pocket. Slim took over the honors of hauling her to the pen, a task that he didn't perform particularly gently.

As she approached the pen, Lexie could see that Jan had witnessed her capture. Lexie shook her head slightly, silently pleading with Jan not to try to run or show any recognition. Her friend was smart enough to stay quiet and still. Lexie tumbled to the ground inside the pen before the gate clanged shut.

Slim, Bobby, and the men who had pulled them apart went to round up the rest of the family for the fight. They would assemble in a nearby field where they had set up a sort of boxing arena, complete with plenty of seats for spectators. No one bothered to stay behind and guard the pen-they were far more interested in watching Bobby and Slim try to kill each other.

Lexie immediately scrambled to the side of the pen closest to the water and looked over at the bridge. As she had expected from Jan's description, the roadbed was covered in a thick layer of dirt that undoubtedly hid the mines Jan had mentioned. At the water's edge was a small fleet of motorboats, which she guessed were the craft the Family used to head up and down the river.

When it was clear no one else was around, Jan came over. "Why in the world are you carrying a tube of lube?" she whispered.

Lexie smiled. "You guys put it in my backpack before I left to walk around the lake."

"Wasn't me," Jan objected.

"Must have been Charity then, God bless her. Anyway, it doesn't have lube in it anymore. I found hydrofluoric acid in the old factory where I've been hiding and swapped it out."

"What's it for?" Jan asked. Lexie was already squeezing the liquid from the tube onto the metal hinges of the pen's gate. She carefully kept her fingers and clothes away, knowing full well what it could do to her skin. From the distance, they could hear that the crowd was beginning to assemble for the expected fight between Bobby and Slim.

"Eats through metal," Lexie explained. "Hold the gate so it doesn't come crashing down."

Jan did as instructed, then asked, "So what's the plan?"

"While they're busy with the fight, you're going to untie all those boats over there except one, let 'em float downstream," Lexie said. "I'm going to blow up the bridge before you pick me up in the boat you save and we escape."

"Sounds good," Jan said, more than ready to get away from the Family for good. "Here, this is loose now, we can squeeze through."

The two women pushed their way out of the cage, and Jan bolted for the boats. Altogether, the family had five small vessels tied to the dock, and it took her a few minutes to get four of them out into the current before settling herself into a small fishing boat that had both oars and an outboard motor. Her primary job completed, she chanced a glance at the bridge, and what she saw nearly made her heart stop.

Lexie had climbed up onto the railing on the far side of the bridge and was now walking towards the center of the structure. Jan wondered what she was planning until she noticed that Lexie held a sizable rock in each hand.

"Oh, God," Jan said under her breath. Understanding for the first time the full extent of Lexie's plan, she got out the oars and attempted to row under the bridge as silently as possible. Fortunately, the fight was now well underway, and the noise was drowning out any sounds from the river.

Caught in the swift current, the rest of the Family's boats were now passing out of sight down the river. As her boat slid under the bridge, Jan stopped rowing for a minute and looked up at Lexie. With her arms outstretched, the young mother balanced on the railing, making faster progress than Jan would have expected. Still, the ledge was very narrow, and Jan couldn't help but gasp as a sudden gust of wind left Lexie teetering for a moment.

Lexie heard the gasp and gave Jan an exasperated look. The younger woman motioned toward the far shore with her head, indicating that Jan should pick her up there. Swiftly, Jan turned her boat and expertly headed for the riverbank.

In seconds, Lexie had made it to the other side without attracting any attention from the Family. As soon as she was back on the ground, she bowled the rocks she had brought with her towards the opposite shore and then ran towards Jan's boat.

The sudden explosion sent Lexie tumbling and dislodged Jan's boat from the shore. Scrambling to her feet, Lexie spit dirt from her mouth and blinked her eyes to clear her vision. Hearing the thunderous roar from the explosion, the Family's guards from the north side of the river came running toward the bridge, spotting Lexie. Jan piloted the boat towards her, and the younger woman staggered into it, collapsing inside as the guards fired their weapons.

Working the oars with all her strength, Jan piloted the boat back to the center of the river and downstream. She continued rowing as shots rang out on both sides of the river, some of the bullets hitting the water. "Lexie," Jan hollered without slowing, "start the motor."

Sitting up slightly, Lexie tipped the motor into the water and grabbed the starter cord. At first, she worried they'd gotten a boat with no fuel, but after half a dozen tries, the engine came to life. As they sped back towards the island house and the cabin, Lexie caught sight of the bridge—or what used to be the bridge. A cloud of dust hung in the air, and the center section of the structure had fallen away, leaving a gaping hole that would make crossing difficult. She knew it wouldn't stop the Family forever, but she hoped it would give her and Jan the head start they needed.

"Why didn't you just blow the bridge from the south side?" Jan asked incredulously, out of breath from rowing. " You didn't need to cross! I couldn't believe you walked that skinny little ledge."

"It was fine. Twelve years of gymnastics finally came in helpful," Lexie said. "I was worried I might get caught if I stayed on the side where the fight was. Plus, this way, if you couldn't get to me, at least I was across the river."

"That was a crazy-ass plan, girl," Jan said disapprovingly.

Lexie smiled. "Yeah, but it worked."

Jan shook her head. "We're not out of this yet."

In the distance, they could hear the roar of an engine—an engine that sounded much more powerful and ominous than their own small outboard.

Lexie turned up the throttle all the way and hollered, "Look for someplace we can hide. We'll never outrun them."

Unfortunately, no likely inlet appeared, and the spring foliage along the river was still too sparse to offer any real cover. In less than a minute, a ski boat came into view behind them. Bobby was inside.

 _He must have won the fight_ , Lexie thought to herself before considering how they were going to elude him. He was alone, so she and Jan could have taken him easily if they'd had any weapons. But the Family had taken the women's knives before locking them up, and her escape plan hadn't offered any easy way to get their hands on guns.

Despite the fact that he was now in range and likely armed, Bobby didn't open fire or even point a gun at them. Instead, he steered straight for the smaller rowboat. "I think he's planning to run right over us!" Lexie yelled to Jan.

She was wrong. Bobby hadn't fought so hard for this girl only to kill her at the first opportunity. He planned to take her alive—the older one too if he could. She ought to be good for cooking or something, he reasoned. So as Jan steered her boat in first one direction than another in an attempt to evade him, Bobby patiently maneuvered up alongside her and waited until the moment was right. He'd been fishing since he was a small boy and knew a thing or two about handling boats.

When a log in the water forced Jan to swing back towards the ski boat, Bobby knew the moment was right. He calmly jumped from his boat into the other vessel. He fell, which spoiled the effect a bit, but before the women could do anything about his arrival, he'd drawn his gun and pointed it at Jan.

"Stop the boat, or I'll shoot her," he drawled.

"Don't do it, Lexie-let him shoot me. I'm ready to go," Jan said quickly. Bobby turned to look at her in amazement.

While his attention was diverted, Lexie grabbed hold of the anchor and heaved it at Bobby. Unfortunately, it was far heavier than she expected and struck him in the shins instead of the head as she'd intended.

"Ouch," he said, without a lot of feeling, "that hurt."

Spotting something near her that might help, Jan picked up a metal tackle box and swung it at the back of Bobby's head. This time he staggered forward, but the blow didn't knock him out. Instead, he grabbed Lexie as he fell, and the two of them were soon wrestling in the bottom of the boat.

Wanting to help her friend, Jan grabbed Bobby's legs and pulled him backward. She pulled her fist back to take a swing at his face, but at that instant, the boat, no longer being steered by anyone, hit an obstruction. Jan tumbled on top of Bobby. Dropping his gun, he wrapped his fingers around Jan's neck and began to squeeze, both of them still lying in the bottom of the boat.

At that moment, Lexie remembered that she wasn't entirely weaponless. From her pocket, she withdrew the tube of acid she had used earlier on the gate hinges. Screwing off the cap, she pointed it at Bobby's face and squeezed.

The effect was instantaneous. Springing to his feet, he began screaming and clawing at his face as the liquid began burning through his skin. Thinking fast, Jan grabbed an oar and swatted at him from the side. He overbalanced and fell into the river, still screaming in pain.

Without a backward glance, Lexie grabbed hold of the tiller, turned up the throttle, and headed the boat downstream.

The two women didn't speak for a long time. As they came in sight of the island house, Jan offered, "I haven't heard any other boats. He may have found the only one that we didn't send down the river."

"They'll still come after us though," Lexie said. "Jan, I'm worried about sending you back to the cabin. It's only a matter of time before they find you."

"Maybe," Jan allowed. "But I should have some time to prepare. I'll be ready to fight or hide or run, you can be sure."

"You won't come with me?"

Jan shook her head. "But I wish you well, you and the little one." It was the first time either of them had openly acknowledged Lexie's pregnancy. "Are you sure it wouldn't be better for you to come with me instead of heading off on foot with no supplies?"

It was Lexie's turn to shake her head. "I've lost too much time already. I have to find them, Jan. I have to."

When they neared the fork in the river that led into the creek that ran west of Jan's cabin, Lexie pulled the boat to the northern bank and cut off the motor. "This is my stop," she said with false cheeriness.

"Good luck," Jan said as she hugged her friend. Lexie's eyes felt moist as she replied, "And to you." Jan didn't prolong the good-bye. She simply moved to the back of the boat and started the motor. Dry-eyed, she waved as she left, heading back toward the cabin in the woods that was her home.

By now, it was growing dark. Although she didn't think it was wise to stop while the Family was hunting her, Lexie didn't want to continue on and risk the chance of missing a clue to where Daryl and Trigger might have gone. Admittedly, the chance of finding a clue was slim, but it was really the only hope she had. Also, she was exhausted, and there was no way a pregnant woman could continue on without sleep non-stop. Her limbs were too shaky from the day's excitement to allow her to climb a tree, so she simply found a clump of bushes and crawled underneath, hoping she was hidden from both the living and the dead. She curled her body into a ball and, cradling her small bump, she fell asleep.

* * *

After hiking for much of the next day, Lexie was overjoyed to see the small motel at the lake's edge. She hadn't seen any sign of Rick's group during the day—not that she really expected there to be anything to find after three or four months—but maybe they had holed up here. It seemed reasonable that they would have hit this place if they had continued east down the river chasing after Lexie.

The more Lexie explored the place, the more likely it seemed that the group had been here. The motel rooms were cleared, and several dead walkers were rotting out back.

Excited, Lexie began a more thorough sweep of the motel. Several of the beds showed signs of having been slept in, and in one room, she spotted a collection of brochures and a tattered copy of the yellow pages on a bedside table.

"Where would they have gone next?" she said to herself. If he believed that she were still alive, Daryl would have come looking for her. And that meant he would have found her. Since he hadn't come, she assumed he thought she was dead. In that case, Maggie would have been the priority.

"Medical supplies," Lexie said, aloud again. "They would look for medical supplies."

She turned to the health care section of the yellow pages and soon spotted a missing page. Whatever was on that page was where they had gone, but what was on the page?

She ran to the room next door and began looking frantically for a duplicate copy of the phone book. Finding it, she flipped to the page that was missing in the other copy. "Appalachian Health," it said. "Treating you like family."

Lexie tore out the page and let the rest of the book fall to the floor.

"Wait for me, I'm coming," she whispered.


	14. Chapter 14 - Reunion

**Reunion**

Trigger began the morning the way he usually did—by jumping onto the still-sleeping Daryl and yelling, "Wake up, Day! Wake up, Day!"

And as usual, Daryl made a big show of still being asleep before grabbing the toddler and tickling him and then swinging him high into the air as Trigger squealed with delight.

Setting the boy back down, Daryl groaned. "Day is tired, Trig. I had late watch."

"Late-watch, late-watch," Trigger sang as he scampered down the stairs to the kitchen. Daryl groaned again before swinging his legs out of bed to follow his son.

Most of the rest of the house was still asleep, but Maggie was already in the kitchen, drinking coffee while nursing her daughter Bethann.

"Thank God, you made coffee," Daryl said, helping himself to a cup.

"It's decaf," Maggie warned.

"What'd you have to go and tell me that for," he protested. "Now it won't wake me up." Maggie just smiled in response.

Trigger's yelling had awakened several more of the house's residents, who slowly began trickling into the kitchen one at a time. Sam and Jessie were the first, closely followed by Aaron. "Did I hear someone wants pancakes for breakfast?" Aaron asked.

"Make shapes, make shapes!" demanded Trigger.

"Yeah, do the pancakes in animal shapes," requested Sam. "Can I have a horse today?"

"I'll see what I can do," Aaron promised.

"Do I hear a party in here?" asked Jamaal, coming in from his turn on watch.

"Yeah, a very noisy toddler party," said Daryl, "and the drinks aren't any good."

"Are we still working on the fence today?" Jamaal asked after grabbing a cup of coffee.

Daryl nodded, "Yeah, Rick wants us to finish it up as soon as possible."

Over the past three months, the two men had formed a somewhat surprising relationship. Without ever really discussing it, they had fallen into a pattern of sharing Trigger's care. Whenever one of them was on watch or out on a run, the other looked after the toddler as a matter of course. They'd also been working together to fortify the group's new home at the top of the mountain.

After Maggie had given birth to Bethann, there hadn't really been any reason for the group to move on. The road destroyed in the avalanche had been the only route up the mountain. With the way now impassable, it seemed unlikely that they would have any living visitors.

The dead were also rare this high up. While they got the occasional stray wanderer, few walkers tackled the arduous uphill hike.

Past the health clinic, the road wound around a few more cabins before dead-ending at a path that connected to the Appalachian Trail. That would be the group's escape route when the time came, but they all hoped that they wouldn't need to use it for a long time, if ever.

Most of them were living in a large cabin near the trailer that housed the clinic and doctor's offices. But with so many kids now in the group, it had grown a bit noisy. Preferring some peace and quiet, Rosita, Eugene, Heath, and Tara had each claimed one of the small exam rooms in the trailer as their own. And Carl and Ron were taking advantage of the warmer weather by sleeping in hammocks on the screened-in porch. They had plans to build their own shelter away from the rest of the group, but they hadn't filled their parents in on that plan yet.

The group had formed a temporary perimeter around the trailer and cabin out of barbed wire, but it wasn't enough to deter a herd or any living attackers. Now Rick had them working on a more permanent fence of sharpened logs angled outward.

The cabin kitchen was fairly spacious, but not quite large enough for everyone at once. Daryl and Jamaal ate their breakfast quickly and then headed outdoors, making room for the later risers to sit at the table. Trigger darted in circles around them as they headed for the piles of stakes that needed to be pounded into the ground.

"You stay where we can see you, little man," said Daryl. "Real close, OK."

"OK," agreed Trigger picking up a small twig and using it to poke at a worm on the ground. He did as he was told and stayed very close, playing in the dirt while the men worked.

Around mid-morning, Trigger tugged on Daryl's pant leg.

"You hungry already?" Daryl asked.

The boy shook his head. "Mama."

"What?" asked Daryl, confused. Trigger hadn't asked for his mom for weeks. Several yards away, Jamaal also stopped his pounding so he could listen.

"Mama," Trigger said again. Then he pointed down the road and said again, "Mama, mama."

There definitely was someone coming up the road. It was a woman. And she was blond. Soon Daryl recognized her too.

"Oh my God," he said, breaking into a run.

"Daryl!" Lexie yelled, for once unconcerned about attracting walkers. "Trigger!" Although she was completely exhausted from her hike up the mountain, the sight of her family gave her a sudden burst of energy, and she began running as well.

When they were close enough, Daryl pulled her into an embrace for a few seconds before pressing his lips against hers. They'd shared many passionate kisses, but for both of them, this one stood out above the others. The rest of the world seemed to disappear, and for the first time in months, they both felt whole again. It was a long time before they broke apart to look at each other in wonder.

Watching from the fence, Jamaal felt like a bunch of puzzle pieces that had been tumbling around in his head suddenly clicked into place. He'd never even suspected that Lexie and Daryl might have had a romantic relationship; Daryl seemed like the last person on earth that someone like Lexie would find attractive. But he was basing that on the Lexie he'd known before the end of civilization. The Lexie who had never feared for her life or been held in chains by a man who abused her or lived for months surrounded by walkers with only her son for company. Seeing them together, he understood Daryl's relationship with Trigger for the first time, and he wondered how he could have lived side by side with the man for so long without an inkling that the two of them loved the same woman.

Of course, Trigger hadn't been silent during this reunion. He was jumping around Lexie and Daryl, occasionally yelling out "Mama!" or "Day!"

Hearing the joyful commotion, the rest of Rick's group drifted out—most of them intent on telling Trigger to quiet down until they saw what was happening. Many of them shared hugs, and more than dabbed at their eyes or gave up and let their tears run down their faces.

Lexie bent down and scooped Trigger up in her arms. She cried a little harder realizing he was heavier than the last time she had held him. "Mama missed you so much," she told him, kissing his cheek.

"I can't believe you're alive," Daryl whispered, his own cheeks a little damp. While she was still holding Trigger, he pulled Lexie close again and kissed the top of her head the way he often had.

"I can't believe I found you," she replied softly with tears still streaming down her face. Gathering her courage, she added, "Daryl, I have something to tell you." She looked up at him, feeling unsure about how he would take the news of her pregnancy.

"I have somethin' to tell you too," he said, thinking about Jamaal for the first time. His eyes darted towards his friend, who stood behind the fence they had been building together. Daryl could only imagine how painful this must be for him.

But Lexie had eyes only for Daryl and didn't notice that anyone else was around. "Me first," she said, setting Trigger on the ground and taking one of Daryl's hands. "Daryl, we're having a baby." She paused a moment, putting his hand on her belly and searching his face for a clue to his reaction. "I'm pregnant."

Stunned, Daryl stared at her for a moment with his mouth open. Then he picked her up and swung her around, both of them laughing and crying at once.

"We're having a baby?" he asked, still taking in the news. "I'm going to have a kid?"

Too choked up for words, Lexie nodded. She threw her arms around Daryl's neck and began kissing him again.

The crowd of onlookers was just as shocked by this revelation as Daryl had been, and many of them began to feel uneasy for Jamaal. Lexie's one-time fiancé wasn't sure what to do. Part of him felt he should walk away, but a bigger part had hungered to see Lexie for so long that he found himself unable to move.

And then Daryl remembered Jamaal as well. He pulled away from the embrace. "Lex," he began quietly, his voice even more husky than usual, "there's someone here you should see." He stepped to the side and pointed her directly toward Jamaal.

Recognition flooded through her, followed closely by wave after wave of emotion. "Jamaal?" she asked. "Is that you?"

"It's me, baby," he said carefully, not sure how she would take the news.

She began walking toward him, slowly at first, and then with increasing speed. Hugging him tight, she asked, "But how did you get here? How . . . " her voice trailed off as she looked back to Daryl for confirmation that this really was her fiancé.

It was Glenn who spoke up. "We found him hiding in a haunted house," he said.

Tara added, "Yeah, the asshole tried to steal our stuff before we told him we knew you."

Lexie looked at them in disbelief. "But you were in France," she said to Jamaal. "I thought you were dead," she added, sobs starting anew.

Rick cleared his throat. "Everyone, let's give Lexie and Jamaal a little space. They have a lot to talk about." They were all curious about what would happen next, but most of the group obediently headed back indoors. Michonne and Aaron, who were on watch, walked back to their posts. Trigger latched himself to his mother's leg, and Daryl strode purposefully in the direction of the woods. He couldn't stand the thought of discussing the recent turn of events with anyone, and enduring sympathetic looks would be even worse. He needed to think, and he figured the woods would be the best place for that.

"Daryl, wait!" Lexie called. He almost didn't stop, but he found he was unable to keep moving, even though he thought it would probably be best.

With Trigger back in her arms, she rushed over to him. "I have to talk to Jamaal, but you'll come back, right?"

Truth be told, Daryl had been considering leaving. Still, if Lexie wanted him to, he figured he'd come back. "Yeah," Daryl said. "Just needed to be alone for a bit. I'll be back."

Standing on tiptoe, Lexie kissed him gently on the lips. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

Daryl didn't know what the thanks were for, but he nodded before walking off.

After taking a deep breath, Lexie walked back to Jamaal. The two of them held hands as they walked toward a picnic table that was inside the fence but far enough away from the buildings and the watch posts that no one would overhear them.

"I can't believe you found me," Lexie said, smiling.

"Technically, I think you found me," Jamaal replied.

"Yeah, but I didn't know I was looking for you," Lexie laughed. "Tell me where you've been."

Taking his time, Jamaal spoke of the horrors he'd witnessed in Paris. He explained how he and three friends hatched a plan to find a sailboat and cross the Atlantic. But two of them—guys Lexie knew from Jamaal's dance company—had been bit on the trip to the coast. Jamaal and his one remaining friend found a boat and began stockpiling supplies. Then the friend went on a run and never came back. All alone, Jamaal decided that being lost at sea would be better than dying at the hands of the dead, so he set off, even though he knew next to nothing about boats. He had a couple of books, and he learned by trial and error. Somehow he managed to make his way across the Atlantic, eventually washing ashore in Quebec.

Like Lexie, he first tried to make his way to their apartment in New York City. The scene in the city was so horrific that when he discovered Lexie wasn't there, Jamaal was almost glad.

"I still had hope," he explained. "I didn't have proof you were dead, so I was going to assume you were still alive." He paused and stroked her hand for a moment. "And I figured if there was anywhere you would go, it would be that damn convent," he added with a smile.

Lexie laughed a little at that. When she had wanted to return to St. Mary's to work on her research, they'd had more than one argument about whether it was a good idea to live so far apart. But then Jamaal got offered the European tour, and it didn't seem to matter anyway.

He finished up with the story of meeting Glenn and Tara in the haunted house by the lake. Then it was Lexie's turn to tell her story, and she spoke slowly and carefully. She wanted to be honest about everything she had gone through, but she didn't want to relive it. She also didn't want to upset Jamaal any more than was necessary. So she edited carefully, leaving out the details of what it was like to be a prisoner in the Family while still giving him enough of the particulars that he understood how deeply it had affected her.

Then she talked about the peace she found living in the convent, how she was able to carve out a life for herself and her son. Without her actually saying so, he understood how lonely she must have been and how much despair she must have felt. He asked about his niece who had attended school there, and even though he was expecting it, it hurt when Lexie shook her head.

Eventually, she got to the point in the story where she met Rick's group. Jamaal had already heard the story of how she nursed Judith, but hearing Lexie tell it in her own words left him feeling in awe of her generosity. He chuckled to hear that she called Daryl "Jethro" and then laughed even harder when she got to the part of the story where she pulled a knife on him.

She paused a moment, wondering if she should edit.

"And then you fell in love. . ." Jamaal prompted.

"It wasn't quite that fast," Lexie objected. "He didn't get mad or anything when I had the knife on him. He just told me he wasn't going to hurt me, not ever. And then as time went on, I saw that he meant it. He was the most protective man I'd ever met. And even though every feminist bone in my body objected to it, I really wanted him to protect me. I felt safe with him, in a way I hadn't felt safe in a long, long time. And he's just a really . . ." she struggled to find the right words. "I wouldn't ever have dated someone like him before, but he's such a good man. And he makes me feel hopeful and . . . happy in a way I never expected to feel again."

"And you're still in love with him," Jamaal said softly.

Lexie nodded as tears spilled down her cheeks yet again. "I'm so sorry," she whispered back.

Jamaal gathered her into her arms, and even though he felt as though she'd stuck a knife into his heart, he did what he could to comfort her. "Hey, it's not so bad as that, girl," he said. "Don't worry about me. I lived a whole three months thinking you were dead. I can survive anything now."

Lexie only sobbed harder.

"Really," Jamaal continued. "I don't want you to feel bad about this. Things are all changed now. Maybe things would have been different if we'd been together when all this happened, but we weren't. Maybe this is just what had to happen."

Lexie's sobs began to slow as what he was saying started to sink in. Jamaal was sad, yes, but he wasn't heartbroken. While they'd loved each other, they hadn't been madly in love for a long time. They had been the kind of supportive partners they had needed in the old world, but that didn't mean they were still right for each other in the new one.

"Daryl is a good man," Jamaal acknowledged. "He took care of Trigger like he was his own child. And he never once told me that you and he had been in love. I feel like a fool now for not realizing it. . ."

"I'm so sorry," Lexie said again. "What will you do now?"

"I don't know, but I guess Rick will let me stick around until I decide."

A cracking twig and rustling bush put an end to the discussion. A walker had wondered up near the camp, and Jamaal stood to go take care of it.

* * *

In the woods, Daryl quickly fell into the familiar pattern of hunting. He'd killed two walkers and four squirrels before he even thought about what Lexie's return meant. He'd never been so happy as the moment when he realized that she was alive—unless maybe it was the moment when she told him she was carrying his child.

But there was Jamaal to consider. Against his wishes, Daryl actually liked the man, and he could see why Lexie had fallen for him. And they'd been engaged. What did Daryl have to compete with that?

He thought it might be best for her if he just slipped out of the picture. If he hadn't promised he would come back, he probably would have kept right on walking. It would be the easiest thing in the world. He already had his crossbow—what more did he need really? Sure, Trigger would miss him at first, but the kid was only two. He would forget.

Could he really be strong enough to leave Lexie and Trigger? It was probably best for them, but could he do it?

He thought about Lexie and Jamaal. They would be good for each other, no doubt about it. What were they talking about now? Or were they even still talking? Had they moved into one of the bedrooms in the cabin? Daryl didn't want to think about it.

He was still weighing over the decision when he headed back to the mountaintop camp three hours later with a whole line full of squirrels. To his surprise, Lexie had been waiting for him, and she came out to meet him as soon as he was in view.

"Hey, stranger," she said, greeting him with a kiss. "You were gone a long time."

"Hey," he said back. Seeing her again made him feel ridiculously happy, but he didn't want to show it. It would just make it hurt that much more if he had to leave. So he deflected the conversation. "Where's Trigger?"

"Napping. Can we talk now?"

Despite all the thinking he'd done in the woods, Daryl did not feel ready for a talk. He had thought he was ready, but now that he saw Lexie, he felt like returning was a mistake. "I gotta clean these squirrels."

After spending so long trying to get back to Daryl, Lexie was not about to be put aside for a bunch of dead squirrels. "I'll help," she said. "You can teach me."

Daryl didn't say anything; he just proceeded to a table near the back of the cabin. When Lexie followed along, he showed her how to cut through the fur and skin, offering a minimal amount of instruction.

To her credit, Lexie jumped right in and did her best to follow along. Of course, she left the squirrel mangled, but she didn't flinch at handling the blood and guts. Daryl remembered that one of the reasons he liked her was her willingness to do whatever was necessary.

For her part, Lexie was completely baffled by Daryl's behavior. She decided he must think she was back with Jamaal. It had always been her practice to be straightforward with Daryl, so she used that tactic again now.

"I told Jamaal that I still love you," she said, as casually as if she were discussing what was for dinner. Daryl kept skinning squirrels like she had said nothing at all. "I picked you," she added, looking at him intensely and willing him to look back.

"What'd you do that for?" he asked gruffly.

"Daryl, I love you," Lexie said softly. "Jamaal being here doesn't change that."

"You were gonna marry him."

"I'm not so sure that's true."

Startled, Daryl looked up from the squirrel he was skinning. "You were engaged," he objected, as if that should make everything clear.

"Yeah, we were engaged . . . for three years," Lexie said. "We weren't exactly in any hurry. Truth be told, we were both pretty happy with the way things were without getting married. We both felt free to pursue our careers. We'd known each other for so long that we were just really comfortable with each other. By the end, we were more like best friends who slept together than anything else."

When she mentioned having sex with Jamaal, Daryl felt an irrational spike of anger. Of course, they'd slept together. He knew that, but knowing it and hearing it were two different things. He realized suddenly that he was in exactly the same position that Rick and Shane had been in—and he was the Shane in this scenario. He knew what he had to do—exactly what Shane should have done in the beginning.

"That's crap," he told Lexie. "He spent years trying to find you, even crossed a whole damn ocean just to be with you. You don't do that for someone who's just a friend with benefits."

"I'm not saying we didn't love each other. We did. It just wasn't what you seem to think it was. And honestly, Daryl, it was years ago. I'm not the same person anymore, and neither is he."

"You're not such different people that you've forgotten you were engaged."

Exasperated, Lexie threw her hands up in the air. "Yes, Daryl, I was engaged. But I'm not anymore. And you're the father of my child—of my children—and you're the man I love. And I really don't understand why you're acting like this."

"I'm leavin'," Daryl said bluntly.

"What?"

"I'm leavin'. Soon as I finish up these squirrels and go throw my shit in a bag."

"Buy why? Daryl, I love you."

If he was going to make a clean break, Daryl was going to have to cause Lexie some pain. He didn't like it, but it had to be done. "That wasn't love," he said. "We only knew each other for a couple of weeks and messed around a little bit."

Lexie wasn't buying it. "It was more than that, and you know it. And what about Trigger? And this baby? You're just going to leave them?"

She'd found a weak point in his armor, but he wasn't going to let it show. "Jamaal can take care of them as well as I can—better, probably."

Lexie looked at him in horror, tears filling up her eyes. "You promised you would never hurt me," she said accusingly.

Finished with his squirrels, Daryl slammed his knife into the wood of the table. "Everyone hurts everyone," he said. "Get used to it." He stomped off, leaving Lexie standing outside with tears streaming down her face.

* * *

Most of the group was dying to find out what was going on with Lexie, Jamaal, and Daryl. They'd put off asking after Lexie and Jamaal finished their talk because they knew she hadn't spoken to Daryl yet, but it was the primary topic of gossip all afternoon.

Carol was the major exception to the rule. She'd truly come to regret what she had done in separating Daryl from Lexie. Seeing the two of them reunite made her realize how much she had hurt her friend. She'd never thought of herself as someone who could be capable of that kind of cruelty. Sure, she'd pretended it was for the good of the group, but deep inside, she knew it was more like jealousy.

Lexie's return also presented the very real possibility that the rest of the group would find out Carol's role in the incident at the island. Jessie had kept her mouth shut so far, but it was only a matter of time before Lexie told someone what had really happened.

 _Rick was right to send me away,_ Carol thought to herself. _I should leave again—at least until I remember who I am. I used to be a good person._

She began throwing supplies in a bag. She wasn't sure where she would go, but she would be fine on her own.

* * *

When Daryl stormed back into the house, Rick followed him into the bedroom Daryl had been sharing with Trigger. "So?" he asked his friend.

"So what?" Daryl retorted, as if he didn't know what Rick was talking about.

"Look, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. . ." Rick began.

Daryl cut him off. "I'm leavin'," he announced.

"She picked Jamaal?"

"No, she picked me," Daryl replied angrily. "But they were engaged. It's best if I go."

"No one wants you to leave, not even Lexie, it sounds like," objected Rick. "You don't have to go anywhere."

"I do," Daryl said firmly. "Tell everyone I said good-bye."

He slung his pack on his back and headed for the door of the bedroom, but Carol appeared in the doorway with a bag on her shoulder as well.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

Daryl hadn't expected that, but he didn't want to take the time to argue. "Whatever," he said brushing past her. Carol followed as Daryl headed down the stairs, out the front door, and off into the woods.

Confused about what had just happened, Rick came down the stairs very slowly and exited out the back. Lexie was still sitting by the table where Daryl had skinned the squirrels.

"Do you know why Daryl left?" Rick asked her, as gently as possible.

"He left already?" asked Lexie, aghast. "He didn't even say good-bye." And with that she began sobbing again. Rick tried to comfort her as best he could, but neither of them really understood what had just happened.

Having seen Daryl and Carol go off in the woods, Michonne came looking for an explanation. Seeing Lexie crying, she thought better of asking and instead put an arm around her friend. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

Lexie shook her head no, but Michonne guided her into the house anyway. In the kitchen, Maggie and Jessie were each having some tea, and they were more than happy to make two more cups. They offered what sympathy they could, but it had been an overwhelming day for Lexie.

"It just wasn't supposed to be this way—I've read enough stupid romance novels to know," she tried to joke through her tears. "Whenever there's a love triangle, the girl's supposed to be all confused about who she should pick. But then she realizes which man she has loved all along and they live happily ever after. How did I end up in the story where I know exactly who I love and he dumps me?"

"Well, that's because you love Daryl, and he's an idiot," offered Maggie.

"That doesn't really help," said Lexie, smiling a little through her tears.

"He left once before," said Michonne. "Give him some time. He'll do the right thing."

"The problem is, he thinks he _is_ doing the right thing," Lexie said.

Maggie gave Lexie another hug, which was really all any of them could do for her.

* * *

After leaving the clinic area, Daryl headed straight for a tiny cabin about a mile away. It was set back a long way off the main road. The group had already cleared it of supplies, so they had no reason to return. Once inside, he extracted a couple of things from his bag, and then tossed the backpack into a chair in the main room.

"Is this as far as we're going?" Carol asked

"This is where I'm stayin'," he clarified. "You can do whatever the hell you want." And with that he headed back out the door into the woods.

"Daryl, where are you going?" Carol asked, confused.

"Huntin'," came the reply. "Alone."

Carol wasn't surprised that Daryl wanted to be alone. She wasn't exactly sure what had gone on between him and Lexie, but she knew it couldn't have been good. Maybe being out here with Daryl, she could find a way to make things right, or at least help him somehow. In the meantime, she set about making the cabin livable. After priming the old-fashioned pump in the backyard, she found that it worked just fine, and of course, the outhouse was still operational. She strung bits of cans and other metal on a wire that she ran around the house as a makeshift warning system, and started preparing some of the food she had brought with her for dinner.

Meanwhile, Daryl headed back more or less in the direction they had come. He didn't take exactly the same route because he wanted to avoid being seen by whomever was on watch. As silently as possible, he made his way to a deer blind that some hunter had set up long ago. However, he had no intention of hunting. He took out a pair of binoculars and trained them on the cabin where Rick's group was staying. He might not be able to live with Lexie and Trigger any more, but he would be damned if he was going to let anything happen to them.

* * *

Daryl wasn't the only one watching the cabin. Out of sight in the woods down by the road, Slim also pointed a pair of binoculars at Rick's group. Lexie and Jan had destroyed his Family's livelihood and killed his best friend, and there was no way they were getting away with it. Out of breath hiking up the mountain, the fat man was sweating profusely, but he wasn't paying any attention to his discomfort. Through the field glasses, he had spotted Lexie with three other women in the kitchen of their cabin. He licked his lips and smiled a bit.

The rest of the Family would want to know about this.


	15. Chapter 15 - Watcher

**Watcher**

It was long past dark when Daryl returned to the cabin where Carol was waiting. She noticed that although he had been out "hunting" for hours, he didn't have any game to show for it.

"Didn't get anything?" she asked, more to make conversation than because she was really interested in his hunting.

"What?" Daryl seemed confused by the question.

"You said you were going hunting," Carol reminded him.

"Naw, I didn't get nuthin'."

"There's some warm supper if you'd like some."

"Thanks."

Daryl ate in silence for a while. When he had nearly finished, Carol sat down across from him at the table.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked with no expectation that he would.

"No." Daryl put his plate in the sink and headed for one of the cabin's small bedrooms, grabbing his pack on the way. He shut the door hard behind him.

Carol sighed and then got up to do the dishes, wondering how this was all going to work out.

* * *

When Trigger woke the next morning, he was confused. His mama was sleeping in the bed where he usually found Daryl. He considered jumping on top of her the way he always jumped on Daryl, but then he changed his mind. Instead, he opened the bedroom door and wandered down to the living room where Jamaal slept on the couch.

He wanted Jamaal to wake up and play with him, but he wasn't sure it would be OK to wake him up. Maybe Jamaal really was awake. Trigger put his nose up next to Jamaal's so he could get a closer look.

"Aaaaggh!"

Jamaal was awake! Trigger giggled.

"Trigger, you just about gave me a heart attack!" Jamaal told the boy. Trigger just smiled.

"Where's your mama?"

"Seepin'."

"You want some breakfast?"

Trigger nodded and took off running for the kitchen. Jamaal followed behind, rubbing his eyes and stretching.

By the time Lexie woke up several hours later, Jamaal was already out working on the fence with Trigger playing nearby. At first, she couldn't figure out where she was, but then the events of the day before came crashing down on her. Getting out of bed suddenly seemed like so much work.

Then she remembered her son. "Trigger?!" she called, realizing he wasn't in the room with her.

Jumping out of bed, she ran down the stairs to the kitchen. "Trigger?" she called again. "I can't find Trigger!"

"He's probably out with Jamaal," offered Rosita, who sat at the table with Tara and Eugene. "He woke us up banging on that fence."

Lexie took off outdoors without bothering to put on her shoes. "Trigger?!" She was starting to panic.

"Hey, it's OK, he's right here," Jamaal said as she came running up.

"Trigger!" she said, relieved, as she knelt on the ground and gave her son a hug.

"Look, mama, pitty bug!" he said, squirming away and pointing at a beetle on the ground.

"Yes, that's a very pretty bug," Lexie agreed, although she wasn't really all that big a fan of bugs. "Don't touch it."

After spending so much of the previous day in tears, crying was the last thing she wanted to do, but she found she couldn't help the tears silently rolling down her cheeks. The stress of thinking she had lost Trigger again—and the relief she felt when finding him—were just too much for her in her current state. She tried to hide it from Jamaal, but he noticed.

"Aw, girl," he said, kneeling beside her and putting his arm around her. "I should have told you he was with me. I just thought you probably needed the sleep."

"It's OK," said Lexie. "I'm just a mess right now. Thank you. I did need the sleep."

"Are you feeling OK . . . I mean with the baby and everything?"

"Yeah," Lexie said. "Well, I guess all the stress probably isn't helpful, but I feel fine. Baby is still moving and kicking."

"Really, you can feel it already?"

Lexie smiled. "It's just little flutters, but you might be able to feel it too. Here give me your hand."

Somewhat reluctantly, Jamaal held out his hand, and Lexie placed it on her belly. They waited in suspense for a moment.

"Did you feel that?" Lexie asked.

"Maybe, I'm not sure. It kind of just felt like your stomach growled."

"Honestly, it may have been my stomach growling," Lexie said with a half-smile, "but I think it was the baby."

Jamaal offered a hand to help Lexie stand up.

"I'm gonna go see if there's any breakfast left. Do you want anything?" she asked.

"No, I already ate, but thanks."

The conversation felt too polite, forced, like there were a million things they weren't saying. Which, of course, was all true. Lexie wondered if they could ever be friends again. She suspected it would take a lot of time—and maybe some space away from each other.

"Come on, Trigger, let's go back to the house," she called to her son.

"No!" he said in the defiant manner of two-year-olds. "Wanna play!"

"Don't you want to get something yummy to eat?" Lexie asked coaxingly.

Trigger considered for a moment. "No!" he said again. "Want Day! Where's Day?"

Lexie's eyes threatened to spill over with tears again, but Jamaal quickly came to the rescue. "Trigger, show me the pretty bug," he said. The distraction worked. Trigger's fit stopped before it really got started. More quietly, Jamaal said to Lexie, "It's fine if he stays out here with me. I'll keep an eye on him. Go get some breakfast."

"Thanks," Lexie said. Without thinking about it, she gave him a quick hug. Then she considered how the contact might make him feel, and she let go awkwardly before turning back to the cabin.

* * *

As soon as it was light enough to see, Daryl had made a lap around the perimeter of the clinic area, staying well back in the trees where anyone on watch would be unlikely to see him. Down by the road, he found a few footprints that seemed a little troubling. He followed them a ways but lost the trail when it hit the paved road. Considering the implications, he returned to the deer blind where he had sat the day before. He expected to spend another day there, his crossbow ready.

Through his binoculars, he saw Jamaal head out to work on the fence, accompanied by Trigger. The sight of the boy tugged at his heart at bit. He'd gotten used to thinking of Trigger as his son, and this was the first morning in a long time that the toddler hadn't woken him up.

Leaving the blind, he skirted through the forest so that he could get a better view of Jamaal and Trigger. He worried for a minute that Glenn, who was on watch, had caught sight of him. Glenn put his own binoculars up to his eyes for a moment and looked almost directly at the clump of bushes where Daryl was hiding. Daryl froze until Glenn eventually turned his attention to another part of the woods.

Daryl couldn't hear much from where he was, but he could see well enough. Smiling to himself, he watched Trigger poke at things with sticks and pick his nose and even eat a little dirt. Focused on the fence project, Jamaal didn't seem to have noticed all that Trigger was up to.

And then Lexie came running, calling for Trigger. Of course, her cries attracted a walker. Daryl saw it from way off and moved soundlessly through the trees until he had a good shot with his bow. When he returned to his hiding spot, Jamaal had his arm around Lexie. That hurt. But it was good, Daryl told himself. This is what he wanted to happen.

When Trigger started to throw his fit, Daryl heard the little boy ask for him. It was all he could do not to go running to him right then. And seeing Lexie hug Jamaal just made everything worse, no matter how much Daryl tried to tell himself that it was for the best.

Trigger's fit had once again attracted attention from the dead—four at once, which was more than they usually saw in a group up on the mountain. Daryl took them out with his knife, the one-sided fight giving him some release for the emotions that still churned inside of him. When they were all dead, he headed back for the deer blind.

Not for the first time, he told himself that he should make a clean break and keep on walking. He didn't listen.

* * *

After Heath replaced him on watch, Glenn went straight to Rick. "I think I may have seen something," he reported. "There was some sort of flash of light out in the woods, and then I thought I saw something moving."

"Walkers?" Rick asked.

"I don't think so," Glenn replied.

"Let's check it out," Rick suggested. Glenn nodded in reply.

With weapons ready, the two men cautiously hiked towards the area where Glenn thought he had seen movement. It looked like there might be some footprints in the area, but Glenn and Rick couldn't tell if they had been made by the living or the dead.

"I wish Daryl hadn't left—he would know what this is," Rick said. "We need him."

"You need me for what?"

Daryl's voice seemed to come out of nowhere, startling Glenn and Rick. They both spun around, ready to attack but then they laughed and hugged their friend when they saw who it was.

"I knew you'd be back," Rick said confidently.

But Daryl shook his head. "Naw, I'm not comin' back. I'm just keepin' an eye on things from out here."

Glenn was confused. "Dude, if you're gonna be watching the camp, why don't you just stay at the cabin with us?"

Not sure he could explain, Daryl shrugged his shoulder. "I just can't be there is all. What are you guys out here for?"

"I thought I saw something out here in the woods," Glenn explained. "A flash of light farther away, and then movement."

"This morning?"

Glenn nodded.

"That was me," Daryl acknowledged. "Binoculars might have reflected the light, and these are my footprints." Glenn accepted this explanation, and Daryl continued, "There's somethin' else you guys should see though. Come on."

He led them around to the place where he had found the trail. "See this," he pointed at the ground. "Someone was here. Someone alive; someone who weighs at least 250, I'd guess, probably more. He sat here for a long time and watched the camp. Then he went back down to the road. Can't follow the trail after that."

Rick looked concerned.

"It could have just been someone on his own," Glenn suggested. "When he saw us and our fence, maybe he just decided to move on."

"Could be," Rick allowed, "but it could be something much worse." He turned to Daryl. "What did Lexie tell you about what happened after she fell in the river? Could someone have followed her?"

Daryl looked uncomfortable. "Didn't ask."

"Do you want to ask her now?" Rick offered.

Daryl shook his head.

"I'll talk to her, find out what she knows," Rick said. "You know we all want you to come back, right?" he asked Daryl.

"Can't."

And with that Daryl turned around and hurried back to his hiding place.

* * *

Behind the cabin, Lexie was sitting at the picnic table, having finished her breakfast. She fidgeted with a teacup now and then, but mostly she was staring off into space while Trigger drove his toy car in the dirt nearby.

"Hey, Lexie, do you have a minute?" Rick asked as he and Glenn approached.

"OK," she agreed noncommittally.

Rick scratched at his forehead, not really sure how to begin. "I realized that with everything that happened yesterday, we never really asked you about what happened after you fell in the river." He glanced over at Glenn before adding, "We thought it might be important."

"Why would it be important?" Lexie wondered. Taking a closer look, she noted the grim expressions on Glenn's and Rick's faces, and it jolted her out of her stupor. "Oh my God, they found me, didn't they?" She jumped up, ready to grab Trigger and run. "I put you all in danger," she added, sounding horrified. For the first time, she was glad that Daryl had left. At least he would be safe.

"It's OK, it's OK," Rick repeated. "We don't know that anyone has found you. We just . . . there were some footprints, is all, and we wondered if you might know anything about it."

"We should leave," Lexie asserted, still obviously terrified.

"Let me be the judge of that," Rick said, trying to calm her. "I'll do whatever I can to keep everyone safe, but I need to know what we're up against."

"It'll be OK," Glenn chimed in. "Just tell us what you know."

So Lexie began her story, telling them how she made it to the cabin and how Jan and Charity had nursed her back to health. Then she explained about the Family, that the same group that had captured her before held the only bridge across the river. Briefly, she recounted her attempt to go around the lake, and then she told them about the incident at the bridge. She ended with Bobby's death and Jan taking the boat back to her cabin.

"I warned her that they would come after her," Lexie said, "and I was pretty sure they would come after me. Then I found this motel, and it was obvious someone had been there. A page had been ripped out of the telephone book, the page with the ad for Appalachian Health. I figured you guys were looking for a safe place for Maggie to have the baby, so I came here, hoping you would still be around.

"But once I found that clue, I stopped worrying about the Family following me. I could only think about getting back to Trigger — and Daryl." She was surprised by how much it hurt to say his name. "I never noticed anyone following me."

"We don't know for sure that anyone followed you," Rick said carefully. "We just know that someone came up the mountain and took a look at our fence."

"But it definitely could be them," Lexie objected. "It makes the most sense. You don't understand the way these men think. For them, life is all about not letting someone else disrespect you or take away what belongs to you. They don't mind killing — actually 'don't mind' isn't strong enough, some of them love it. Causing people to feel pain gives them some kind of sick joy. I never could have gotten away the first time except that I was alone with Trigger's father. I'd been in labor for more than a day, and they all told him just to kill me because I was making too much noise and bringing too many walkers around. When he refused, they left us. All the other men were a little afraid of him, and I think they saw it as a chance to get rid of the biggest bully in the pack. So when he never caught back up with them, I doubt they were real upset about it."

She took a breath before continuing. "But the way I left the second time, blowing up their bridge and killing Bobby and helping Jan escape, that's not something they'll be able to ignore. They won't stop looking for me, and nothing good will happen for anyone else who's around when they find me."

Rick considered her words a moment before making a decision. "If what you say is true, there's no way to stop them unless we kill them all or make them think you're dead." Lexie nodded in agreement, and Rick continued. "So we fortify this place and come up with a plan for what to do in case they show up. We'll set extra lookouts, and we'll have our escape route ready. I'm not going to let anyone hurt any member of my family, and that includes you."

* * *

Daryl was glad to see the increased activity around the cabin and clinic. They'd been working at a steady pace on the fence, but now it looked like they would have it finished within another day. They'd put everyone to work, even Sam.

Lexie was having frequent discussions with Eugene and Rick—Daryl guessed they were trying to come up with plans for defending the camp. And Rick put two extra people on watch on the perimeter, and two more headed down the road with walkie-talkies, on the lookout for anyone approaching from the most likely direction.

They also seemed to be making more preparations for an escape. Daryl watched Jamaal hike up to the trailhead carrying several emergency packs. If it had been anyone else, Daryl might have stopped them and asked what Lexie had told them. Was someone chasing her? Would she and Trigger be safe?

The more he thought things over, the more agitated Daryl became. When he saw Jamaal coming back from hiding the emergency packs near the trailhead, he made up his mind. "Screw it," he said aloud, climbing out of the blind and putting himself on a course to intercept his friend, or maybe his former friend.

"Hey," Daryl said, stepping into Jamaal's view.

Jamaal looked wary. "Hey."

Daryl decided to get right to the point. "So what's the story? Why is Rick stepping up security? Did Lexie know something about the footprints?"

"What's it to you?"

Clearly, Jamaal was feeling a little hostile.

"Look, I still . . . " Daryl paused, thinking better of mentioning Lexie and Trigger. "Just because I'm ain't living there anymore doesn't mean y'all aren't my friends."

"You hurt her," Jamaal said accusingly. "I could forgive a lot of things, but you hurt her."

"It was the right thing to do," argued Daryl, clearly upset.

"Says who? You? Doesn't anyone else get a say? Doesn't Lexie get a say?"

"What are you complainin' for? I'm lettin' you have her?"

"Letting me have her?" Jamaal's voice grew quiet, which was somehow more threatening than when he was loud. "She wasn't yours to give away. And the fact that you don't understand that is the reason why she and I _will_ be together again."

Daryl wanted to argue, but he'd already decided that Lexie and Jamaal should be together, hadn't he? He'd given up the right to get angry about that when he left. But there was no way he was going to stop protecting her—and the rest of the group.

"Fine, she's yours," he agreed. "What's with the security?"

Jamaal wasn't done with his questions yet. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Daryl knew what he was talking about. "We thought she was dead. What difference did it make?"

"I would have wanted to know—" Jamaal hesitated. "It would have been nice to know that she was happy, that her life wasn't all terrible before she died."

"What does it matter now?"

"Because I thought we were friends, man. You just, you should have told me." Jamaal's voice was growing louder again.

"Sorry."

"That's it?! Sorry?"

"What more do you fuckin' want from me?" Now Daryl's voice was growing loud as well. "You got the girl. Now just tell me what I need to know so I can keep her safe!"

The increasing volume of the conversation hadn't gone unnoticed. A group of five walkers was now approaching—the biggest group they'd seen on the mountain yet. Daryl hit one with a crossbow, then drew his knife. At the same time, Jamaal stabbed the walker nearest him through the temple. Both men went after the attackers aggressively, using more force than they really needed to. They each took down two and then converged on the last at the same time, both plunging their knives into opposite sides of his skull. They withdrew their knives, and the dead body fell to the ground.

Clutching their bloody knives, Daryl and Jamaal glared at each other, both of them out of breath.

"You're a fool," Jamaal said, no longer sounding as angry as he had a few moments earlier. "Why the hell should I help you?"

"Because you want to keep her safe too," Daryl suggested, "and I'd tell you."

Jamaal considered a moment, then answered as succinctly as possible. "The group that held her prisoner before, they call themselves the Family. She tangled with them again; she thinks they're going to follow her up here." And with that he turned his back on Daryl and stalked toward the group's camp.

* * *

It was dark again when Daryl returned to the cabin he was sharing with Carol. And once again, she had supper waiting for him.

"How was the hunting?" she asked.

"Fine," Daryl said gruffly, heading straight for his bedroom.

Carol grabbed his arm to stop him. "Daryl," she said kindly, "you haven't brought anything back in two days."

Daryl pulled his arm free. He intended to say nothing and slam the door behind him, but he thought better of it.

"You should go back," he said. "They think someone might have followed Lexie. The group might be in danger. You could help."

"If they're in danger, why aren't you going back?"

"I have been. I've been keepin' an eye on things from out in the woods where they can't see me."

"You still love her," Carol observed.

"Yeah," Daryl agreed, "but it don't really make a difference. She was engaged to someone else. It's best I stay away."

"Is that what Lexie thinks?"

"It's best."

"It's best I stay away, too," Carol said softly. "Rick was right to send me away before. I always try to keep the group safe, but that may not always be the best thing."

"I don't blame you for Lexie falling in the river."

Carol looked up at Daryl, horrified. _He knows,_ she thought. _He knows and now he hates me._ Out loud, she asked, "What?"

"I don't know what you said or did at the island house, but you could have gotten her to come right away with the rest of the group, and you didn't."

"We didn't know her," Carol began her familiar protest. "She could have been a threat. And I was right, now she is putting the rest of the group in danger."

Daryl slapped his hand against the doorframe. "She wasn't a threat, and you know it," he said angrily. Besides, you don't get to make those kind of decisions on your own."

"I thought you said you didn't blame me?"

"I don't," Daryl said more softly. "You gotta good heart. You want to keep the group safe. You just sometimes do stupid stuff because you care."

Carol's conscience pricked at her. Had her heart been in the right place when she told Lexie to stay behind? She wasn't so sure anymore.

It made no sense, but she felt angry at Daryl for not blaming her. He should blame her. She blamed herself for this whole entire mess. And who did he think he was accusing her of doing stupid stuff because she cared too much?

"Yeah, well look who's talking," she said.

Daryl slammed the bedroom door in reply.

* * *

It took Jamaal a long time to cool down after his conversation with Daryl. He tackled the fence construction with a vengeance, making more progress in thirty minutes than he usually made in an hour.

Noticing his frenzied pace, Rick walked over. "It's gettin' dark," he observed. "Might be a good time to stop for the night. We can finish it off in the morning."

"Yeah, but what if they attack in the night?" Jamaal asked, continuing to pound a stake into the ground. When the sharpened log was lined up with the others, he added. "Daryl didn't really leave. He's still out in the woods keeping an eye on things."

"I know," Rick replied.

"I hate him," Jamaal said, continuing to work. "I fucking hate him for hurting Lexie, and I hate him for loving her. I hate him for not telling me about any of it. And I hate him for being the one to leave before I could. I hate him for trying to protect her." His voice had been growing louder, but it broke as he stopped hammering and looked up at Rick. "And I hate myself for hating him. And for not being with Lexie when everything happened. For letting her get captured by a bunch of rapists and thugs."

He pressed his fingers against his eyeballs to prevent any tears from leaking out.

"I know," Rick said, placing an arm around Jamaal's shoulders. "I know."

Out of sight behind the clinic trailer, Lexie heard the entire exchange. Her heart jumped to hear that Daryl hadn't really left, that he was still nearby watching over her. And then the sound of Jamaal's pain cut her to the core. With her hormones on overload, the flood of emotions was more than she could bear. She sank to the ground, sobbing quietly.

* * *

To the north, a gangly teenager named Ethan sat in a tree watching the activity around the clinic and cabin. When Slim asked for a volunteer to spy on the place, Ethan had been quick to raise his hand. If he did a good job here, it would bring him more respect in the Family.

An avid hiker, he knew that the Appalachian Trail ran across this mountain. Out of an abundance of caution, he had approached by the trail instead of the road. He noted where Jamaal was hiding packs and then saw the lookouts returning from their post on the road. Slim—and the rest of the Family—would definitely want to hear about these new developments.

Whoever this group was, it looked like they were expecting a visit from the Family. But that would just make the Family more determined to take them down.


	16. Chapter 16 - Valley

**Valley**

For the better part of an hour, Rick had been wandering in the woods hoping to run into Daryl. But so far, Daryl hadn't chosen to make an appearance. The whole experience was starting to feel a little ridiculous.

"Daryl," Rick said in a voice that was part whisper and part exclamation. "Daryl!" he tried again a little louder. He stood still a moment, scratching his head as he looked around in hopes of spotting his friend.

He had just decided to head back the cabin, when Daryl strode up, crossbow slung over his shoulder. "Hey, man, what's up?" Daryl asked as if they were meeting under perfectly normal circumstances.

"I've been out here for an hour trying to talk to you is what's up," Rick said, exasperated. "We need some sort of signal or something."

"Yeah, I wondered why you were walking in circles," Daryl said. "What do you need? Did you find more prints?"

"No, nothin' like that," Rick replied. "We haven't seen anything for two days. What about you?"

"Naw, I haven't seen nothin' neither. You think maybe no one's comin'?"

"I'm not sure," Rick acknowledged. "Everyone's on edge from being on high alert, but I'm not sure we can let our guard down."

Daryl looked at the ground for a few seconds, then asked, "What's Lexie think?"

"Why don't you come ask her yourself?" Rick suggested.

Daryl didn't reply.

Rick decided not to push things. "She still thinks they're coming," he said. "She's real scared, keeps Trigger close."

"She doesn't know I'm out here, does she?"

Rick shook his head. "Far as I know, the only people that know are me, Glenn, and Jamaal."

Daryl nodded. "Good."

"Listen," Rick added, "I'm thinking maybe we should do a scouting mission of our own. See if this Family is even still around. Figure out what we're up against."

"Yeah," Daryl said. "It's a good idea. Do you want me to do it? I could take Michonne."

That was exactly what Rick had been hoping for. He nodded and said, "I'll send her out this way in about an hour. Can you be ready to go?"

"Yeah." Daryl paused a moment before adding, "I could probably use some food for the road."

"I'll send extra with Michonne," Rick agreed, before adding with a smile, "Just don't leave her out here walking in circles for an hour."

Daryl attempted a small smile at the joke, but he didn't really succeed. He had something more pressing on his mind. "You'll keep an eye on 'em while I'm gone?"

Knowing he meant Lexie and Trigger, Rick replied, "You don't even have to ask, brother."

* * *

At the lookout post on the main road, Aaron and Rosita had set up near the avalanche site behind a boulder. It concealed them from view while offering a good look at several switchbacks below. They were keeping their eyes peeled for danger, but they couldn't help but get a little bored.

Making conversation, Aaron asked, "Have you noticed there's a lot more walkers up here lately."

"Yeah," Rosita said. "I had the south watch late last night, and I had to take out seven. That was the most I've seen up here."

"Why do you think that's happening?" Aaron pressed.

Rosita shrugged. "Walkers always come when there's a group of people in one spot. It's the noise or the smell or something. Always been that way."

"Yeah, but we were here for months with hardly any sign of them."

"I don't know, we're up real high, maybe it just took them a long time to figure out we were up here."

"Yeah maybe," Aaron said, though he obviously didn't agree. "Hey, look who it is!" he said pointing at the road above him.

Michonne and Daryl were making their way down the road, carrying packs and plenty of weapons.

"Hey, stranger, you came back!" Aaron grinned as he grabbed Daryl's hand and slapped him on the shoulder.

Daryl looked uncomfortable. "Not really," he said. "Just doin' a job for Rick."

"Yeah, just when I thought I'd gotten rid of him, Rick said Daryl's been hanging out not half a mile away," Michonne teased.

"You should come back," Aaron said seriously. "Everyone misses you."

"By everyone, he means Lexie," Rosita added a little provocatively, arms crossed over her chest. She did not approve of the way Daryl had left his girlfriend.

Daryl didn't take the bait. "We've gotta keep movin' if we're gonna get this done," he said, as he made a move to continue walking down the road.

Rosita wasn't going to let him off that easily. "Listen, Daryl," she said a little more kindly. "None of us know how long we have. You could die today, or she could. Don't waste the time you could have with the people you love. It's precious."

Daryl nodded a little to show he was listening and then stepped gingerly onto the part of the roadway that hadn't been washed down the mountain by the avalanche. Michonne followed right behind.

Rosita and Aaron watched until the pair disappeared around the next bend in the road.

"Idiot," Rosita pronounced.

* * *

Daryl and Michonne had been planning to follow the mountain road until it intersected the primary east-west highway in the area. From there, it seemed much more likely that they would run into someone from the Family, so they planned to stay well back in the woods as they hiked west toward the road that ran toward the bridge.

But their hike proved to be much shorter than they had expected.

One of the last switchbacks on the descent offered a good view of the river valley below. Now in the lead, Michonne stopped short as she peered over the cliff. "Would you look at that?" she breathed.

"What?" Daryl asked, stepping to her side. "Holy shit," he added as he took in the sight.

As far as they could see from east to west, an enormous herd of walkers filled the valley. Most of them seemed to be congregated on the highway, but they could also see movement in the trees and down by the river.

"Well, I guess we know why we've been seein' more walkers," Daryl observed.

"There must thousands!" Michonne added, still trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

"If the Family was still at the bridge, I'm guessin' they've got their hands full," Daryl said.

"There's no way anyone could survive that," Michonne agreed.

Without further discussion, they headed back up the mountain the way they had come. It took quite a bit longer than the trip down, but they still made it to the clinic area by mid-afternoon.

Despite plenty of badgering from Michonne, Daryl refused to meet with Rick indoors. Instead, he waited in the same part of the woods again while Michonne went and got him.

When Rick arrived, Daryl and Michonne quickly filled him in on the number of walkers in the valley. Trying to drive home the extent of what they had seen, Daryl said, "It was at least as big as that herd in the gravel pit near Alexandria."

"And you have no idea where they came from?" Rick asked.

"We couldn't see," Michonne said. "But they were going from east to west, headed straight for that bridge where the Family was supposed to be."

"That's good news for us," Rick said. "But I'm not convinced we're entirely out of danger, especially with that many walkers so close." Daryl and Michonne nodded in agreement. "We'll stay on alert for a couple more days and then head down to take another look," Rick concluded.

* * *

Up at the cabin, Maggie was looking for someone to help on a project. "Hey, Lexie," she called.

"What's up?" Lexie replied, wiping her hands on a towel. Somehow she had again found herself in charge of washing dishes, and she'd just finished cleaning up from lunch.

"Would you mind taking some of this barbed wire and metal junk out to Heath and helping him string it in the trees? Rick wants it out there as an early warning system since we've been getting so many more walkers. I was going to do it, but Bethann is getting fussy."

"Sure, no problem," offered Lexie. "Sounds a lot better than helping dig pits," she added, nodding towards the area where most of the group was busy out in front of the clinic.

"No kidding," Maggie agreed.

However, when Lexie got out to the area in the woods where she expected to find Heath, she instead ran into Jamaal.

Ever since the first morning when she had found Trigger with Jamaal, Lexie had done her best to avoid her former fiancé. It wasn't that she was upset with him, she wasn't. It wasn't even that she didn't want to spend time with him, because in a way, she did. It was just awkward.

She couldn't change the fact that she had hurt him terribly. And being around Jamaal made her feel incredibly guilty. Being around Jamaal also reminded her that Daryl had left. And that was still incredibly painful. She often wondered to herself which of the three of them had been hurt the most by her unexpected return.

So when she saw Jamaal, she almost turned around and headed back to the cabin. But Trigger also saw his friend and squealed, "Jamaah!"

Jamaal turned around, surprised to see Lexie instead of Maggie. "Hi," he said cautiously. "I thought Maggie was coming out to help."

"Well that makes two of us who are surprised because I thought I was coming out to help Heath," Lexie replied, trying to make a joke of it.

"He cut his arm on the wire, so he went to help get walkers for the pits," Jamaal explained.

"Bethann was fussy," Lexie said to explain her arrival. Taking a deep breath, she added, "So now we're both here."

"I could go do something else," Jamaal offered. "I'll send Glenn or somebody out to help you."

"No, it's OK," Lexie said. "In a group this small, we're going to have to see each other sometime—we might as well get used to it." Then she hastily added, "Unless you really want to go back—I mean, that's totally OK if you want to." She winced at hearing how awkward her voice sounded.

Jamaal smiled. "It's OK with me, if it's OK with you," he said. "Let's get to work."

For the next two hours, they talked only about the project. Because they had known each other so well and for so long, working together came easily. Each seemed to know what the other needed before they asked. Trigger played happily nearby, digging with sticks, looking under rocks for bugs, and always staying within a few feet of his mother. Both of them began to hope that maybe they really could be friends again.

Eventually, they used up their supply of barbed wire and metal odds and ends. They were far from finished with their makeshift fence, however, so Jamaal offered to go back to the cabin to fetch more supplies.

"I can come too," Lexie offered quickly. "That way we can bring more supplies."

"No, let Trigger keep playing. He's happy out here," Jamaal suggested. "I'll use the wheelbarrow. Besides, I think you could use the rest."

"Thanks," Lexie said with a smile.

As Jamaal left, she sank down to the ground and leaned back against a tree. She wasn't feeling nauseous as often any more, but at this stage in her pregnancy, she was unbelievably tired. She didn't remember that feeling from the first time around—probably because she had tried to forget as much as she could from that time in her life.

When he saw his mama sitting on the ground, Trigger came right over and plopped himself on her lap. "Story, mama," he ordered as he stuck his thumb in his mouth and reached up to stroke her hair.

Lexie supposed Trigger probably needed a rest too. He had nearly given up naps, but he still seemed to do a little better in the evenings if he had a little quiet time in the afternoon. She started in on "The Three Little Pigs," which had always been one of Trigger's favorites.

She recited the familiar words, coming to the part where the wolf said, "Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!" when a sudden clanging caught her attention. While they'd both been absorbed in the story, a walker had wandered up and gotten tangled in the barbed wire.

Lexie sighed and drew her knife from her belt as she slid Trigger off her lap so that she could stand. Seeing the walker, Trigger's eyes grew wide, "Hide, seek!" he yelled before tearing off in the opposite direction.

"Trigger, wait!" Lexie called. For a split second she dithered between putting down the walker and following her son. She decided the walker wasn't hurting anything while it was trapped in the wire, and she took off after Trigger.

When Jamaal arrived back at the work site with his wheelbarrow full of supplies, he found only the walker. Acting quickly, he stuck a knife through the walker's skull and began calling for his former fiancée and her son. He didn't know a lot about tracking, but Daryl had taught him enough that he could see the direction they must have gone when the walker showed up.

He crashed through the underbrush, feeling more frantic with every step. "Lexie! Trigger!" he called continually.

Searching for Trigger was beginning to feel very familiar. He supposed that toddlers had always wandered off with some regularity, but the stakes were so much higher now. Truth be told, he was more worried about Lexie the Trigger. He knew Trigger would find someplace to hide, but would Lexie? She might try to fight off walkers, even if she wasn't really up to it. And what if someone from the Family found her before he did? Jamaal would never forgive himself. He didn't think he could stand it if he lost her again so soon after finding out she was alive.

It seemed to Jamaal like he'd been searching forever, but he found them just a few hundred yards away. As usual, Trigger had crawled under a thorn bush. Lexie was squatting nearby hoping to coax him out.

"Aw, girl, there you are!" Jamaal said, his voice full of relief. For a moment he forgot that he should be angry with her. He even forgot the pain he felt when she had chosen Daryl over him. He remembered only that he loved this woman, and that for as long as he could remember, he had wanted to spend every day of his life with her.

Overcome with emotion, Jamal pulled Lexie into his arms and, without really thinking about it, he kissed her. Into that kiss, he poured all the love that had driven him to travel halfway around the world to find her, all the remorse he felt for not being with her when she needed him, and all the joy he felt at finding her alive.

And for a moment, Lexie forgot herself too. Caught off guard by the unexpected kiss, she felt only the deep bond she shared with this man she had expected to marry. His passion rekindled the desire she had always felt for him. She responded to him exactly the way Jamaal had fantasized she would when he had imagined this moment during all the nights he spent alone crossing the ocean and half a continent to find her.

In the underbrush, Trigger was surprised to see his mama kiss Jamaal. He was used to seeing his mama kiss Daryl, but no one else. And where was Daryl anyway? He promised he would always come get Trigger after hide and seek. He should be here.

Trigger crawled out and watched Jamaal and Lexie curiously for a moment before asking, "Mama, where Day?"

In an instant, reality came crashing back down on Lexie. How could she be kissing Jamaal? Hadn't she chosen Daryl? What was she thinking?

Sensing her confusion, Jamaal stepped back slightly without breaking his embrace. "Are you OK?" he asked gently.

Looking away, Lexie blurted out, "I'm fine." Then, grabbing Trigger's hand, she added, "It must be getting close to dinner time, I'm gonna take him back to the cabin."

Before Jamaal could reply, Lexie and Trigger were gone.

Had he ruined his chances to win her back by moving too fast? He knew she wasn't ready to let go of Daryl yet. _At least now she knows how I feel_ , Jamaal told himself. He headed back to his wheelbarrow full of barbed wire and trash, hoping that some hard work would take his mind off things.

Lexie meant to go straight back to the cabin, but her thoughts were so muddled that she quickly veered off course. At first, she could think of nothing but that kiss. What did it mean? She had thought that Jamaal's calm response to her revelation about her feelings for Daryl meant that he wasn't really in love with her any more, but she was clearly mistaken. If she was sure of one thing, it was that Jamaal was as intensely in love with her as he had ever been.

Did she still love Jamaal? She probably always would love him in a way—but did it mean she didn't have the feelings for Daryl that she thought she did? If Daryl was really gone for good, she supposed that she should just feel blessed to have another man in her life who wanted her. And not just any man—a really, really good man, the kind who would search around the world for her and not give up even when she said she had found someone else.

She mulled over the repercussions in her head, coming to no definite conclusions. Eventually, she looked up at the woods around her and realized that she had no idea where she was. How long had she been wandering out here? Could she find her way back before dark? Would Jamaal come looking for her—again, twice in one day?

 _I've got to get back tonight before he, or anyone else, comes looking_ , she told herself. _Get a hold of yourself and make a sensible plan._

Up ahead she saw a cabin. She didn't remember seeing it before, but it would probably have a driveway or at least a trail that led back to the main road. She headed for the structure, her steps slowing as she drew closer. It looked like someone had been living in the place. There was laundry—women's clothing—hanging from a clothes line, and a pair of motorcycles, dirt bikes, were leaning against the outside wall.

Lexie stopped, unsure what to do next. Were those Carol's clothes?

* * *

Even after Michonne and Daryl had walked all the way down and back up the mountain and had their conversation with Rick, there were still a few hours of daylight left. Michonne headed back to work on improving the fortifications, while Daryl retraced the now-familiar wide arc around the camp.

Unfortunately, they'd had so many more walkers coming through the area that it was impossible for Daryl to tell if they'd had any more living visitors. He returned to his customary spot in the deer blind to keep an eye on things. Most of the group were digging pits or building platforms in the trees. Lexie and Trigger were nowhere to be seen, so he assumed they were inside the cabin. He watched Jamaal come in from the woods and then head back out with a wheelbarrow full of wire and metal. Daryl made a mental note to stay away from that area until while Jamaal was out there.

When Daryl saw Jamaal return again as the sky was beginning to grow dark, he decided he might as well call it a day. He headed back to his own cabin, wondering as he walked how long it would take before Carol grew tired of his attitude and stopped making him supper. He couldn't decide if he wanted her to leave or to stay. He hadn't wanted her along in the first place, but part of him had to admit that it was nice to have someone waiting for him at the end of the day.

Carol _was_ waiting at the cabin, but the situation wasn't at all what Daryl expected. Not anticipating any trouble, he opened the door, calling, "Carol?"

Right away, Carol stepped out of her bedroom with her hands raised. Behind her was a skinny teenager who was pointing a gun at her head.

"What the hell?" Daryl asked, aiming his crossbow at the intruder.

"Not so fast," the boy said with a smile, continuing to walk out into the main room. Behind the teenager came Lexie, holding tight to Trigger's hand and looking terrified. Behind them was a fat man holding a pistol trained on Lexie.

"Drop it," Slim told Daryl.

He started to obey, but before the crossbow reached the floor, they all heard the startling sound of gunfire in the distance.


	17. Chapter 17 - It Begins

**It Begins**

"Tie up Lexie and Jake's spawn too," Slim ordered Ethan. "We'll start with this one," with his gun he indicated Carol, "and work our way up."

Ethan bobbed his head toward Daryl. "What about him?"

"Kill 'im," Slim said nonchalantly.

Lexie's eyes grew wide, and she prepared to launch herself at Ethan as he leveled his gun at Daryl's head. But Slim spoke up again.

"Wait," he said. "Second thought, tie him up too. Let him hear what happens." A slow, evil grin spread across the fat man's face.

 **Around Two Weeks Ago**

In the makeshift fighting arena by the bridge, Slim swayed on his feet, blood dripping from every orifice on his face. He tried to keep his hands up, but they seemed to weigh five times as much as usual. His left eye had swollen shut, but he could still get the right open just enough to make out Bobby's face a few feet away. To Slim's satisfaction, Bobby appeared to be equally bloody, but on the other hand, he also seemed quite a bit steadier on his feet.

The crowd could sense that the fight was almost over. The cheering grew louder and more vicious as the members of the Family each screamed for his favorite to kill the other.

 _Just one more good hit,_ Bobby thought to himself. _He's about to go down._ He drew his right arm back, but before he let the punch fly, a sudden explosion rocked the arena. Off balance, Slim and Bobby both went down in a tangle or arms and legs.

Fight forgotten, everyone looked at the bridge. Someone must have set off the mines. But who could get that close without anyone from the Family noticing?

Then they spotted the small fishing boat carrying two women—the same two women who had been in the pen when the fight began.

Incensed, the men of the Family pulled out their weapons and sprinted for the riverbank. But they were too late, and the bullets fell short.

"The boats are gone!" a voice hollered from the nearby dock. The women were about to make a clean getaway.

Bobby remembered a speedboat hidden in a cove downriver. There was no way he was going to let his prize escape. Fueled by a sudden burst of adrenalin, he took off running, sure that reaching the boat would be the only way to bring Lexie back.

The other men were less worried about one captive escaping than about the potential loss of their livelihood. Lexie's escape plan had left a large hole in the bridge—a hole far two wide to jump.

Arguments about what to do began almost immediately. A very vocal minority of the group wanted to move on. The explosion would bring too many walkers, they said. It was time to find a new place to set up camp.

A slightly larger part of the Family was in favor of repairing the bridge—or at least devising a temporary way to cross. However, nearly every member of that group had a different idea of the "right" way to fix it.

In the midst of all the arguing, Slim's booming voice carried out over the crowd. "Let's just blow the rest of the damn thing up," he said. "We can cross on the rubble, and it will be a lot faster and easier than tryin' to build somethin'."

Quite a few of the men nodded in agreement, but some hadn't been convinced. They kept up the debate through dinner and into the evening. They expected that eventually the group would vote, and in the meantime, they were trying to convert more people to their point of view.

Worn out from his fight, Slim didn't bother wasting time with discussion. Instead, he gathered a small group of men he could trust, a group that included Ethan and several other teenagers who were eager to prove themselves. They met in a clearing nearby.

"Bobby never came back," Slim began. "That means either he caught that bitch and went off on his own, or those bitches caught him and killed him. Either way, I mean to find out." He paused to look up at the men in the circle, most of whom nodded or grunted in agreement.

"I say we blow the bridge tonight," he continued. "No more of this bellyachin' about what we gonna do. We just do it. When the dust settles, we get across the river and find that bitch."

That night as the rest of the family slept, the group of eight headed up to the bridge. One of the men on watch duty spotted them and tried to ask what was going on, but Slim slit his throat.

"No goin' back now, boys!" he crowed.

Using a long piece of lumber they had brought for the purpose, four of the men carefully crossed the gaping hole. Then, on Slim's signal, men on both sides detonated the remaining mines simultaneously.

The earlier explosion had been deafening, but this one was so loud as to be beyond comparison. The ground shook for miles in every direction, and only the fact that she was completely exhausted prevented Lexie from awakening.

When the sun rose the next morning, Slim's group saw that the rubble in the river would indeed make a decent makeshift bridge. However, the rubble had also dammed the river. A large pond was already forming to the west, and it didn't take much foresight to see that before long, the water level in the pond would rise high enough to cover the chunks of concrete, making it impossible to cross.

As everyone gathered for breakfast, rumblings of discontent spread through the Family. Most of them were directing angry glares in Slim's direction.

He decided their anger represented an opportunity.

Tapping a spoon against a glass, he rose to his feet and addressed them, his face still bruised and swollen from the day before. "Members of the Family," he began, sounding like an old-time politician. "The bridge is down, and the time for debate has passed. The rest of you can consider whether you want to repair the bridge or not, but I for one intend to see the people—the women—responsible for this catastrophe punished." He paused to receive a few smatterings of applause. Others were confused because they thought Slim was the one responsible for their predicament.

"I say we gather our supplies and set up a new camp on the high ground on the north side of the river. We find our boats and set up a ferry. That way we can collect from travelers like we always have. We'll take their food. We'll take their weapons. And when we feel like it, we'll take their women." More cheering interrupted the speech again, as the crowd warmed to this new plan.

"And I say we send some scouts to find those women, the women who think they have escaped from the Family. I'm here to tell you that they are mistaken. Because we will find them, wherever they are hiding, and we will make sure that they understand that no one, no one ever messes with my Family."

By now the cheering was nearly unanimous. Their course was decided, and for the time being, it appeared that Slim was the leader of the Family.

* * *

 **Three Days Ago**

"I'm tellin' you, Slim, I know where she went!" Ethan waved a torn page from a telephone book in front of the older man.

Slim ignored Ethan but backhanded Jan across the face. She sat across from him in a chair in a non-descript storage room, her hands tied behind her back and her ankles strapped to the chair. Red welts raised up on her skin. "What do you think, darling'?" he asked her. "Where do you think your girlfriend went?"

Jan spat a wad of blood onto the floor. "Go to hell," she replied.

Slim smiled. "I was hopin' you'd feel that way," he said. "I'm going to enjoy getting you to share your opinions."

"But, Slim," Ethan protested. "You don't need this one any more. I'm tellin' you, I know where the other one went, the good-lookin' one."

Slim rose and slowly slid his belt out from his pants. "You can tell everyone about it tonight at dinner," he offered. "If everyone else agrees, I got no problem sending someone up the mountain to see if that bitch is up there. But that doesn't mean we can't have any fun this afternoon."

He smiled again and drew back the arm holding his belt. But before he could swing, two more men burst into the room.

"Slim, you gotta come," said a tall, thin redhead named John.

"I don't gotta do nothin'," Slim objected. "What's so important?"

"The dead," John said. "Hundreds of them, thousands maybe, all headed this way."

Pablo, the Latino man who had come in with John added, "Looks like they're coming from down by the lake. When the river got dammed up, it dried up most of the lake too. Now all the dead that were trapped in Lake Charlotte are all herded up and walking towards us."

Slim's face grew pale. "We'll be back for you later," he promised Jan before following John and Pablo out the door.

Jan went to work on the knots on her wrists, wondering if she could possibly escape both the Family and the dead that were headed her way.

* * *

 **Yesterday**

"Slim, we've lost ten men and twice that many women and kids in the past two days trying to divert that herd," Pablo protested. "We don't have the manpower to attack this other group. I say we just move on."

The Family was huddled in a utility company's warehouse on the high ground overlooking the river valley. Around them sat spools of now-useless electric wire and shelves full of replacement parts and tools. Down in the valley below, the enormous herd continued its ponderous progress toward the west.

"Let me get this straight," Slim spoke slowly, enunciating each word. "You want to let that bitch win? She destroyed our bridge, stole our property, killed my best friend, and brought this herd down on us. And you want to move on?"

The rest of the group muttered angrily. Pablo squirmed a bit.

"Thanks to Ethan, we know where she is and who's been helpin' her," Slim continued. "We can go up there, take what they've got, and replenish our supplies. Or as Pablo suggests, we can just let bygones be bygones. Try to stay alive with that herd nearby."

By this time, nearly the entire Family was glaring at Pablo. Clearly, no one was ready to "just move on."

* * *

 **Today**

As night fell, Rosita and Aaron returned from their post on the road. Most of Rick's group gathered in the kitchen of the cabin for supper, leaving Tara, Carl, Glenn, and Heath to watch the perimeter.

When he arrived, Jamaal took a quick look around the kitchen and noticed who was missing. "Where's Lexie?" he asked.

"It's OK," Maggie said. "I sent her out to work on the barbed wire with Heath."

Jamaal grew more agitated. "No, I took over for Heath. She was with me for a while, but she headed back here more than an hour ago."

Growing concerned, Rick looked up. "Has anyone seen Lexie or Trigger in the past hour?" he asked loudly.

They looked at each other, a few of them shaking their heads, but no one spoke up.

"Michonne, Jamaal, come with me," Rick said. "Everyone else stay put. Hopefully they'll make it back on their own, but I want to go look just in case."

He turned and headed for the front door, but before he got there, gunfire rang out in the night.

"Carl!" Rick said, and he broke into a sprint towards the fence.

* * *

In the small cabin, Lexie and Daryl struggled against the ropes that tied their wrists, hoping to work their hands free. It was the first time they had seen each other since Daryl left the group, but neither of them could think about that now. The sporadic gunfire that had begun shortly after Daryl's return had continued, and the sound was attracting walkers. It was difficult to tell for sure in the dimming light, but increasing numbers of the dead seemed to be passing by the cabin's windows.

"Do you think the camp is under attack or do you think they're shooting at walkers?" Lexie asked in a whisper.

"Don't know," Daryl replied, "Either way we got to get Carol and get back there."

Disturbing sounds were coming from the bedroom where Slim and Ethan had disappeared with Carol. Suddenly, Carol screamed. Slim giggled.

Without thinking, Daryl yelled—a wordless, guttural cry of anger.

Slim poked his head out of the bedroom door. "Didn't like that did ya, big fella?" he asked with a grin. "Don't you worry, we didn't fergit about y'all. I just sure hope all the yellin' doesn't bring in the dead while you're all tied up." His tone and facial expression made it clear he didn't really care how many walkers stormed into the cabin.

When Slim had disappeared behind the nearly closed door again, Lexie whispered. "They want us to scream and cry. It's why they didn't gag us."

Daryl nodded. He knew; he just couldn't stand hearing Carol hurt.

Lexie looked over at her son to see how he was doing. He had remained quiet ever since reaching the cabin, and while he wasn't crying, he looked incredibly frightened. Although Lexie and Daryl were both tied to chairs, Ethan had simply tied the toddler's hands and feet and left him on the floor. Seeing his bonds gave Lexie a sudden flash of inspiration.

"Trigger," she said, trying to sound as normal as she could, "want to play a game?"

Curious, her son looked up at her.

"I bet you can't stand up," she challenged him in a whisper.

"I tan!" he whispered back. Demonstrating the typical flexibility of a preschooler, Trigger wriggled on the floor, pulling his feet through his arms, which had been tied behind his back. With his hands in front of him, it was easy for him to stand, even with his ankles bound. "See!" he said proudly.

"Wow!" Lexie enthused quietly. "I didn't know you could do that. I bet you can't get your hands out of those ropes."

Trigger thought for a moment and then began pulling at the knots with his teeth. He couldn't get the knots undone all the way, but he loosened them enough to pull one hand free and then the other.

"I did it, Mama!" he exclaimed much more loudly than he should.

Lexie and Daryl both looked toward the bedroom, afraid that Slim or Ethan would come out to check on the noise, but both men were too caught up in their own activities to worry about what was happening in the other room.

"Shhh!" Lexie warned him. "Now, see if you can come over here and untie Daryl's hands, but you have to be quiet. It's a secret."

With his ankles still tied, Trigger couldn't walk, but he didn't mind crawling across the floor. Standing behind Daryl, he inspected the ropes. "Owie," he said pointing to the area where Daryl had rubbed his wrists raw trying to escape.

"Yeah, I've got an owie," Daryl said. "But it will be all better if you can untie me. Do you think you can do it, buddy?"

"I try," Trigger promised.

But before he could loosen the ropes, Daryl and Lexie both heard the creak of the front door. Turning their heads as far as possible, they strained to see who—or what—was coming inside.

* * *

Running as fast as he could, Rick reached Carl's lookout post and quickly climbed the ladder that led to the shielded ledge where his son stood.

"I don't know who it is," Carl yelled over the sound of gunfire, "but they started firing at us first. I'm shooting back when I can see them, but it's hard in the dark. There's a ton of walkers too."

Peering into the darkness, Rick could see a few walkers lined up at the fence, but no one living. Then he heard a sudden yell, followed by a thud and then another scream.

"Sounds like at least one of 'em found our pits," Rick noted. "Stay up here, I'm going to get some flares."

The group had drilled on what to do in case of an attack, and everyone headed for their positions. Rick ran towards Jessie, who was packing up Judith and Sam in the cabin. In case of an emergency, Jessie, Maggie, and Lexie were supposed to take the children and head for the trailhead up the road, but Rick wasn't sure that was the safest course of action tonight.

"I know I told you to go to the trailhead, but I want you to stay here. Maggie too," Rick told her.

"What about the kids?" Jessie asked.

"Keep them indoors and keep them quiet," Rick said. "Be ready to fight or run if you need to, but I don't like the idea of you heading out there in the dark, 'specially with Lexie and Trigger missing. Who knows what they ran into."

Jessie nodded. "Be careful," she told him, kissing him quickly on the lips.

"I will," he promised before running off to find flares.

* * *

Wearing a poncho covered in walker blood, Jan stepped cautiously into the main room of the cabin where Lexie and Daryl were being held, her rifle ready to fire.

Lexie exhaled in relief.

"Looks like it's my turn to save you," Jan said in a whisper.

"Get Daryl first," Lexie replied.

Jan complied, quickly slicing his bonds with her knife. "I've got one more gun," she said quietly. "What's the plan?"

Daryl had already retrieved his crossbow from the corner where Slim had set it. "Give the gun to Lexie, he said. "We all go in on three and take those assholes out."

"Hold on," Lexie whispered. Turning to Trigger, she said, "New game. Hide under the couch until one of us comes to get you."

This was a game Trigger knew well. Wordlessly, he slithered under the dingy couch and prepared to wait.

Lexie nodded at Daryl, and the three of them approached the bedroom door cautiously. Holding up his fingers, Daryl signaled 1-2-3, before flinging the door wide and firing at Ethan who was standing over Carol. The teenager dropped, an arrow through his temple, his pants still around his ankles.

Lexie and Jan both fired at Slim, who was closer to the window. Hit in the shoulder, the larger man dove through the glass and ran around the side of the house towards his dirt bike, trailing blood behind him.

Instinctively, Daryl started to follow but paused and looked back at Carol. Her clothing was torn to shreds, and her face was a mass of bruises. Blood trickled down her bare legs.

Her face hard, Lexie put a hand on Daryl's chest. "Go," she said. "There's another bike. Get that bastard. I know how to help her."

Daryl nodded and turned to leave through the window. By now, Slim had kick-started his bike and was heading off in the direction of the camp at the clinic. But before jumping through the window, Daryl turned back towards Lexie and, to her surprise, kissed her quickly but passionately. "Just in case," he said before leaving. Within seconds, he found the second motorcycle behind the house and took off in pursuit of Slim.

* * *

Rick popped the top off a flare and tossed it high over the fence. It landed in the road, where it quickly attracted a large group of walkers, but did little to illuminate any living attackers who might be lurking in the darkness. He ran to another section of fence and tried again. This time, Rick thought he caught sight of a shadow in the distance before the flare landed on a patch of bare dirt.

"Did you see anything?" Rick whispered to Heath.

"Maybe, I'm not sure," Heath replied. "Can you send another one?"

Rick nodded and tossed a flare high. As the flash of light streaked through the air, Rick saw several flashes that seemed to float about twenty feet off the ground. Bullets ricocheted off the fence and ground, coming far too close to Rick and Heath. They both dove for cover at the base of the fence.

"They're in the trees," Rick said, his voice full of surprise. "Why are they in the trees?"

* * *

Daryl revved the engine of the dirt bike as high as he dared, anxious to catch up to Slim. The older man had a big lead, and unfortunately, the noise from the bike was drawing walkers. Daryl had to weave constantly to avoid trees and the dead.

Strangely, Slim had opted to turn on his bike's headlight, making it all too easy for Daryl to follow him. Up ahead it looked like Slim was slowing or maybe even stopping. He had to know someone was behind him.

 _What kind of idiot would leave his headlight on and then stop in the middle of the woods?_ Daryl thought. He was tempted to believe Slim was just an idiot, but no one could be that stupid and still be alive, especially not after having survived as many fights as he suspected the Family had been in. Acting instinctively, Daryl slowed his bike, moving toward Slim at a walking pace. As he got closer, he could make out some shadows near the larger man.

Suddenly, Daryl understood exactly why Slim had left his lights on and stopped in the middle of the woods. He turned his bike, angling away from Slim and hoping against hope that he could make it back to the camp in time to warn Rick about what was going on.

* * *

The gunfire at the camp continued sporadically. Once he figured out where the attackers were, Rick had made a circuit of the fence, telling everyone, "Target the flashes in the trees, but don't use too much ammo."

Over the months they had been at the mountain clinic, they had built a significant weapons stockpile, but it would run out all too quickly. Already Ron and Eugene had begun delivering more ammunition and weapons to those on the fence and up in the lookout posts.

Rick was puzzled by the enemy's tactics. _Why aren't they attacking in force or leaving?_ He asked himself. _Why stick around and take pot shots at us?_

He was still mulling over the dilemma when Jamaal came running up to the nearby gate. "Rick," Jamaal said, "I'm gonna make a break for it, try to find Lexie."

"No," Rick said firmly. "Think. How are you going to find her in the dark? There's a much better chance you're gonna run into someone from the Family."

"She's out there alone!" Jamaal argued. "I can't leave her out there."

"She's a survivor," Rick said bracingly. "She's made it this far, she can make it one more night."

"You think they've already got her, don't you?" Jamaal responded accusingly. "That they're going to try to use her to get us to give them whatever they want."

Of course, the thought had crossed Rick's mind; they both new it was possible, even probable. "We don't know where she is," he said. "Until it gets light or they make a move, we don't know what we don't know—and that's a terrible time to go running around in woods full of walkers."

Jamaal looked like he was going to argue some more, but just then they heard the distinctive sound of an engine approaching from the north. Their argument temporarily forgotten, both men pointed their weapons in the direction of the sound.

* * *

For five seconds, Lexie allowed herself to think about Daryl's kiss. Did it mean he still loved her? Was he saying goodbye? Was he just saying thank you for taking care of Carol? She didn't know what to think.

When the five seconds were up, she put it out of her mind and turned back to Carol, ready to focus on the task at hand.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," she said gently. "We should get you cleaned up. Do you have any water in the cabin?"

Despite her ordeal, Carol was dry-eyed, but she found it difficult to talk because her teeth had begun to chatter—and the swelling from the bruises on her face didn't help either. "There's a little in the kitchen," she said. "The pump is out by the clothesline."

Wordlessly, Jan left the room and returned a few seconds later with a half-full pitcher. "I'm still covered in guts," she said. "I'll be safe enough running out to the pump for more. We're gonna need it."

Lexie and Carol both nodded in thanks.

"Let's clean up as much of the blood as we can," Lexie said. "Then we need to get you in some blankets. Your body is going into shock."

"I know," Carol said quietly. As Lexie dipped rags into the water and began cleaning Carol's legs, Carol asked, "Lexie. . . who is that woman?"

Despite the terrible situation, Lexie smiled. "I guess I should have explained that," she said. "That's Jan. She and her wife took me in after I dragged myself out of the river."

"And then Lexie saved my ass when I got captured by the Family," Jan added gruffly, having returned from getting more water. "I wouldn't be here except it was my turn to save her."

Carol tried to smile a little in response.

"Does anything feel broken?" Lexie asked.

"Maybe here," Carol said, pointing to a rib.

Lexie nodded and lifted Carol's clothing to look for bruising. With the slightest pressure possible, she felt along the rib. Carol gasped as her fingers brushed the tender spot.

"It doesn't feel like the bones are out of place," Lexie told her, "but it's going to be tender for a while."

"I know," Carol said again. When Lexie and Jan looked at her questioningly, she added, "This isn't the first time I've been beat up."

Continuing their work, Lexie and Jan bandaged a wound on Carol's head and examined her abdomen for signs of bruising that might indicate internal injuries. Finding nothing, they helped her into some fresh clothes.

They were just getting some blankets to wrap around Carol when they heard a small noise from the main room. Instantly alert, Jan whipped out her gun, and Lexie pulled out her knife. Together, they entered the room and looked around. The sound came again.

Feeling stupid, Lexie exclaimed, "Oh, Trigger!" Falling to her hands and knees, she looked under the couch. "You did such a good job hiding, sugar," she said to her son. "Now, it's time to come out."

The small boy threw himself into his mother's arms, and she held him for a few moments, planting a kiss on the top of his head. "You're safe now, baby," she told him. "You're safe."

"Lexie," Carol called from the bedroom. "Can you come in here a moment?"

Setting down her son, Lexie headed into the other room. Jan took Trigger's hand and led him toward the kitchen, promising to find something yummy to eat.

"What do you need? More blankets?" Lexie asked Carol.

"No," Carol said. "I just needed to talk. Would you mind closing the door?" Lexie did as she asked and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

Carol had been so strong, but now a tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm so sorry," she said quietly.

Horrified, Lexie took hold of Carol's hand and replied, "This wasn't your fault. You can't blame yourself."

"Not for this," Carol said. "For earlier. At the island house."

Lexie's face grew stony. "I always wondered if you did it on purpose. I guess now I know."

"I convinced myself you were a threat," Carol said. "I can't ask you to forgive me, but you deserve to know." She smiled without humor, gesturing at her body, "I suppose this is my penance."

"No!" exclaimed Lexie, growing more upset. "No one deserves this. No one!"

"Lexie, I nearly killed you," Carol said as if explaining to a very small child. "And I did kill other people."

"We've all killed people, but God did not do this to you to punish you," Lexie said emphatically.

"You still believe?" Carol sounded surprised.

"I guess I do." After a pause, Lexie added, "Now you should try to get some sleep."

"No," Carol said as if the idea were ridiculous. "Our friends are under attack. We can't stay here."

"You can't go anywhere," Lexie objected. "Let Daryl and Rick worry about the Family."

"They may need our help," Carol said. "And if they don't win this fight, I can guarantee that Slim's coming back here. We can't stay here. We have to decide—do we run or do we help our friends fight?"

* * *

The whine of the engine drew louder. In the trees outside the fence, Pablo whispered to John. "Hear that, hermano? That must be Slim and Ethan coming on their bikes."

"Everything's going according to plan," his companion agreed. John gestured toward the spiked boots he was wearing. "I never thought this stuff would work."

The members of the Family wore lineman's gear they had found in the warehouse down the mountain. The same equipment that helped workers get up telephone poles also worked just fine for climbing trees.

"Me either," Pablo acknowledged. "I guess old Slim knew what he was talking about."

The dirtbike rider went into a skid, coming to a stop right next to the gate. Pablo and John looked on, confused by this change in the plan.

"Let me in!" Daryl yelled as he rolled off the motorcycle.

Jamaal and Rick immediately swung the gate aside, and Daryl dove behind the protection of the fence just as the Family members in the trees realized that it wasn't Slim or Ethan on the bike and opened fire.

Jamaal and Rick swung the gate closed as quickly as possible. Panting for breath, Daryl announced, "We're in deep shit."


	18. Chapter 18 - Siege

**Siege**

"What do you mean?" Rick asked Daryl, confused. "What's going on?"

"The Family," Daryl explained, "they used dirt bikes to get walkers to follow 'em up the mountain. You know all them walkers Michonne and I saw? They're on their way."

"All of them?" Rick asked.

"Probly not all of 'em," Daryl admitted, "but more than enough for us to handle. I just saw one of them Family bastards in the woods cutting through the barbed wire Jamaal strung out there today. There were walkers, hundreds of 'em, all lined up along the wire, and now they're headed here."

Something dawned on Rick. "That's why they're in the trees," he breathed.

"What?" Daryl didn't understand.

"The Family," Jamaal explained. "They all climbed up in the trees somehow. They've been taking shots at us, keeping us pinned down, but they haven't really attacked all out."

"Being up in the trees is keeping them out of range of the walkers they're bringing up here," Rick added. "And once it gets light, they'll have a perfect line of sight to fire right over our walls."

"What about the platforms?" Jamaal asked. "Can't we use those to counteract the men in the trees."

Rick rubbed his chin. "They'll help, but we only have room for a couple of shooters at a time. It won't be enough."

"There's more," Daryl said. "The Family stopped by the cabin where Carol and I been stayin'. They had Lexie, Carol, and Trigger when I got there. We killed one of 'em, but not before they raped Carol. That's what's waitin' for any of us that don't die in the attack."

"What about Lexie?" Jamaal asked.

"She's fine," Daryl said. "I wouldn'a left otherwise. She and someone she knows named Jan were lookin' after Carol while I went after the guy who cut the fence."

After a moment, he added, "I just hope the four of them have the sense to stay where they're at."

* * *

In their cabin, Lexie, Jan, and Carol were having an impromptu meeting around Carol's bed. "I say we head back to the camp now," Carol offered. "It's dark, so we have a better chance of avoiding the Family. Maybe we can even take a few of them out on the way in."

But to Lexie, flight seemed like the wiser option. "The plan was for Maggie, Jessie, and I to take the youngest kids up to the trailhead. I say we head up there."

"I don't like the idea of running," Jan said. "But it might be best in this case. Carol, you're in no shape to fight. And what would we do with Trigger if we went to this clinic where your group is?"

"I've never felt more like fighting in my whole life," Carol said angrily. "And I'm not going to abandon my friends. You all can run to the trailhead if you want. I'm going back to fight."

Jan and Lexie shared a look. "We can't let you go alone," Jan said. "You know that."

"I know I'm not just going to sit around somewhere waiting for help that may not come," Carol argued. "How did that work out for you last time, Lexie?"

Lexie's hand itched to slap Carol. Instead, she slowly counted to ten in her head and contented herself with glaring.

Because Lexie had never talked about Carol's role in her fall into the river, Jan didn't understand what was going on between the two women, but it was clear that they had some history. She decided to try for a compromise. "No matter where we go, we don't know what we're going find," Jan observed. " One of us needs to go find out what's goin' on. Carol, you're injured, and Lexie, you're pregnant and you have Trigger to think about. I'm the obvious choice. You draw me a map, and I'll check out this trailhead and the clinic. I'll come back here, and then we can decide what to do. Sound good?"

Lexie and Carol both nodded.

Jan headed out of the cabin, wondering as she went if it were wise to leave the two of them alone together.

* * *

Rick sank to the ground, his back against the gate. He needed to let the rest of the group know what was going on. He needed to get Maggie and Jessie and the babies to safety. He needed to keep his fighters at the fence in case the Family started their attack. And most of all he needed to plan a way to get his people—at least some of them—out of this mess.

Jamaal and Daryl both crouched beside him, expecting him to start detailing a strategy for breaking the siege.

Rick looked up at Daryl. "I don't know what to do," he admitted.

"What are our options?" Daryl prompted.

"We could make a stand," Jamaal offered. "Maybe hold out long enough to get the women and children away."

"Sounds like a last resort," Daryl said.

"We could attack first," Rick suggested, thinking aloud. "Stuck up there in the trees, they're at a disadvantage until it gets light. Now that we have an idea what they're planning, we might be able to stop them."

He rose back up to his feet, brushing his hands on his pants. "Let's—" he started to say something, but his words were cut off by the sound of an approaching engine. A dirt bike rumbled into view, and the Family members in the trees sent up a cheer as they recognized Slim.

"Whatever we're gonna do, it's gonna have to be quick," Daryl said. "That's the guy from the cabin. The leader. Lexie called him Slim."

"We might be able to make this work, but I need Glenn and Eugene," Rick said, adding, "I wish Lexie were here too, though I guess she's probably safer where she is."

Daryl and Jamaal glanced at each other without speaking. They both felt exactly the same way.

* * *

After Jan left, the tension mounted in the cabin. Lexie escaped out to the main room where she attempted to interest Trigger in some songs and games. He sat through one verse of "Itsy Bitsy Spider," but then he saw a real spider hurriedly wrapping a hornet in silk. Completely engrossed, he laid on his belly, watching with uninterrupted focus.

Sighing quietly, Lexie sat in a chair nearby and tried not to worry about Daryl. Why hadn't he come back yet? She was still refusing to allow herself to think about the kiss.

"It's hard to compete with the real thing," Carol observed from the bedroom.

Caught up in her own thoughts, Lexie didn't follow Carol's train of thought. "Pardon?" she asked, walking over to stand by the partially open bedroom door.

"Your song," Carol said with a half-smile. "It looks like your son enjoys real spiders more than he likes singing about them."

"Yeah, he loves bugs," Lexie said, not entirely sure she was ready to engage in small talk.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Carol offered tentatively. "About bringing up the lake house again."

"Forget it," Lexie replied more brusquely than was absolutely necessary. She took a deep breath, then said, "Actually, you were right anyway. Sitting around and waiting probably isn't the best strategy."

"You're worried about Daryl, aren't you?" Carol observed.

"Yes," Lexie admitted. "I thought he would be back by now."

"He'll be alright," Carol asserted confidently. "He's the best survivor I've ever met."

Lexie surprised herself by opening up to Carol more than she expected to. "I just feel like I keep finding him only to lose him again," she said. "If he doesn't come back, I won't know if it's because he's hurt or dead. . . or because he doesn't want to."

"He never really left you, you know," Carol said. "He's been spending all his time keeping watch over you."

"That's not exactly the same as not leaving."

"He would have come back eventually. And he'll come back again as soon as he can."

Still nervous, Lexie chewed on the inside of her lip. "I wish I could be so sure."

"You must be worried about Jamaal too," probed Carol, feeling curious about the current state of the love triangle.

Lexie looked up, startled by the thought. "I guess I should be," she said. "I left him in the woods earlier. But he must have gotten back to the clinic area by now, don't you think?"

"Probably," Carol said carefully, "but that gunfire is coming from somewhere. The group is fighting the Family or fighting walkers or both."

Distracted, Lexie nodded in agreement. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought about Jamaal once since she'd arrived at Daryl and Carol's cabin. When she'd been wandering in the woods, Jamaal had been all she could think about, but the encounter with Slim and Ethan had driven him completely from her mind.

And then that kiss from Daryl—no, she still wasn't ready to think about it.

What was Carol's angle in all of this? Lexie wondered. Clearly, Carol wanted to get back to Rick's group. If that were the case, why had she left with Daryl in the first place? Was she trying to set Lexie up to get left behind again? Lexie was willing to take care of her, but that didn't mean she trusted her.

* * *

The men in the trees had stopped taking shots at Rick's group. In another situation, that might have seemed like a good sign, but Rick was pretty sure they were just waiting to implement the next phase of their plan.

Faint sounds of conversation, followed by a sudden peal of laughter, drifted in from the woods. "That's downright disconcerting," Eugene observed. He, Jamaal, and Glenn were meeting with Rick at the picnic table outside the cabin. Everyone else was at their posts—waiting.

"It just means they're overconfident," Rick asserted, trying to bolster everyone's morale. "They don't know that we have a plan for taking them out."

"We do?" Glenn asked.

"We will," Rick said. "Eugene, I need you to remind me about the traps and decoys you and Lexie were working on. What got finished and what didn't?"

The most extensive booby traps they had laid were the pits—some filled with walkers, some filled with sharpened stakes, and some still waiting to be filled. Eugene had a map that showed all of the locations. In addition, chopping down trees for the fence had left a lot of stumps around the perimeter of the camp. Eugene had come up with the idea of drilling holes in the stumps and partially filling them with explosives made from fertilizer. The theory was that if they hit the stumps with gunfire or set them on fire, they should explode, sending shrapnel everywhere, but they hadn't been able to test them.

"Speaking of ordnance that hasn't yet been tested," Eugene continued, "I have been working on improvised explosive devices, IEDS in the vernacular, to use as mines. My plan was to test one today, but I ran out of time. It's buried about four meters southwest of the front fence gate. I placed the wheelbarrow over top of it to make sure none of us stepped on it."

"What good is a mine that no one can step on?" Glenn asked sarcastically.

"Rick said he wanted to know everything we had," Eugene said defensively. "I'm being thorough."

Rick held up his hands to end the argument before it really began. "Do we have more of those homemade mines?" he asked. "Enough that we could make a reasonable semblance of a minefield inside the fence?"

"Theoretically, yes," Eugene said. "But again, I have to reiterate that they have not been tested." He paused before continuing, "Another option is to use the IEDs to set off tree bursts."

"What are tree bursts?" Daryl asked.

Eugene explained, "In World War I, when the Germans and the Allies were fighting in the forest, they sometimes timed the artillery rounds to detonate up in the tree canopy rather than on the ground. It sent small pieces of wood and bark everywhere, causing considerable injuries to the living. I do not believe it would have a significant impact on the dead, however."

"Interesting," Rick said. "Anything else?"

"Carl and Ron manufactured some Molotov cocktails. We put a few on each of the shooting platforms, and the rest are stored in the clinic trailer. We've been working on a way to weaponize some of the materials from the clinic building—oxygen tanks and the like—but that's not ready. And Lexie was rigging both the trailer and the cabin with explosives the same way she did at St. Mary's. I don't know if she finished."

"So basically, we have a lot of things that may or may not explode when we want them too," Glenn observed.

"Lexie was out helping me with the barbed wire today. I don't think she would have come out there if she hadn't finished with the trailer and the cabin," Jamaal offered.

Daryl looked up at Jamaal, surprised to hear that Lexie had been helping him. From what he had seen, it had seemed like Lexie had been avoiding her former fiancé. Or maybe he was her current fiancé again—Daryl wasn't really sure.

"If at least some of the stuff that is supposed to explode really does explode, we can make it work," Rick said confidently. "Here's what we're going to do."

* * *

"There's no one at the trailhead," Jan announced without preamble as she re-entered the cabin. "I didn't find the supplies that were supposed to be there, either."

"So either Rick's group already took the supplies and headed out, or the Family found them and claimed them," Lexie said.

"They wouldn't have left without us," Carol said staunchly. "What about the camp at the clinic?"

"I didn't make it all the way there," Jan said. "Ladies, there are hundreds of walkers on top of this mountain tonight, maybe even thousands. When the Family had me locked up in the warehouse, I heard them talking about a herd coming down from Lake Charlotte. With the river dammed up, the dead escaped from the town, and they all headed upstream. Looks like the Family found a way to divert them up here."

The three women looked at each other for a moment. "So now what?" Lexie asked softly.

"I still say we head back to the clinic," Carol said. "Our best chance is staying with the group." She turned and spoke directly to Lexie, "Daryl and Jamaal and Rick and Judith and Maggie and the rest of them might need our help."

"It's dangerous," said Jan, stating the obvious. "Every step of the way we'll be in danger from the walkers. We could run across more of the Family in the woods, and in the dark, your group might mistake us for the enemy. I say we wait for morning."

Lexie was torn. Like Carol, she really wanted to help her friends. There was no way she could leave without knowing what had happened to Daryl—and Jamaal. But she had Trigger to think of. Running and hiding had always served her well in the past, and she didn't see how she could possibly be any help while she was dragging a toddler along and trying to hide from a herd of walkers.

"I'm not sure we have any good options," Lexie said with a sigh as she mulled the possibilities.

Her train of thought was interrupted by some growling and pounding on one of the front windows.

Scared by the sounds from outside, Trigger came running into the bedroom. "High and seek, mama?" he asked. "Me hide?"

"Not right now," Lexie said absently.

"Actually," Jan said, thoughtfully, "I think Trigger may have the right idea."

* * *

A full moon had risen over the mountain, leaving the clinic and cabin area unusually well lit for the middle of the night. Smelling the people inside, many of the dead pressed up against the fence, impaling themselves on the sharpened stakes. A few congregated beneath the trees where Family members were hiding, but the Family wasn't paying much attention to them.

Instead, the men in the trees had resumed taking shots whenever they spotted movement within the fence. They hadn't hit anyone yet, but the shots were coming disconcertingly close in the moonlight. For extra fun, they'd also started yelling taunts at those trapped inside.

"Open up the gate, some of your friends want to come in!"

"Come on out, sweetheart, we promise we won't bite—much!"

Raucous peals of laughter followed each taunt, no matter how inane.

Dashing quickly and making what use they could of the sparse cover, Rick and Glenn slinked around to each guard position, detailing the plan to the members of the group one by one.

At the cabin, Jamaal informed Maggie and Jessie of their roles. For now, he would stay nearby waiting for his part in the night's drama.

Meanwhile, Daryl had begun retrieving the Molotov cocktails, moving most of them from the trailer to the gate. After hearing the plan, Ron jumped in to help, carrying some of the homemade explosives to the two platforms manned by Carl and Rosita. And Eugene rounded up his IEDs, adding them to the stockpile near the fence.

Eventually, Rick, Glenn, Daryl, and Eugene reconvened near the front gate. They would start off the attack. "You ready?" Rick whispered.

The three men nodded in the dark. Carefully, Eugene passed out three of his IEDs. "They should explode on impact in the trees," he said, "but there's also a fuse in case they fail to detonate."

Snapping open his lighter, Rick lit the fuses on all three devices, shielding the flame with his hand in order to prevent the Family from seeing the light. With his fingers, he counted to three, and then he, Daryl, and Glenn hurled the bombs high into the trees, each of them aiming for a spot where a few walkers had congregated.

Two of the IEDs detonated high in the canopy, sending razor-sharp shards of wood spinning through the air. Three men screamed in the night, and one fell to the ground where the walkers immediately fell on his body. Enraged, the rest of the family on that side of the fence opened fire, shooting blindly and wasting ammunition in their anger.

As soon as they heard the explosions on the other side of the camp, Michonne and Aaron began cutting down the walkers stuck on the north side of the fence. Quietly and methodically, they slid knife and sword through the brains of the dead, hoping to avoid attracting attention from the Family.

On the east and west sides of the camp, Heath and Tara watched the trees apprehensively. They were on guard in case any of the family decided to try making an incursion from an unexpected direction, but the men in the trees near them seemed confused by the sounds of explosions coming from the south.

"Do they need help?" someone asked.

"Should we head over there or stay in the trees?"

The men debated back and forth, but no one made a move or attacked.

After throwing the IEDs, the group by the gate hadn't been idle. Rick and Glenn turned to the Molotov cocktails, which they tossed towards the stumps that contained explosives. With help from Eugene, Daryl set a couple of arrows on fire and sent them winging towards explosive stumps as well.

At first, the wood simply burned, attracting walkers, some of whom wandered into the pits that ringed the fence. After a few seconds, however, the first stump exploded, sending deadly shrapnel flying into walkers and Family members alike. Several walkers caught on fire, and as they wandered in the woods, more of the brush and dead leaves went up in flames.

One by one, the stumps exploded—not all of them, but enough to do some real damage to the Family. The random pattern of detonations caught them off guard and added to the chaos and confusion.

With the forest ablaze, it was becoming much easier to spot the men hiding in the trees. From their protected vantage points on top the platforms, Carl and Rosita took careful aim, picking off a few of the Family members.

Responding to the attack, the Family was fighting in earnest now. The growing light was aiding them as well, making it easier to spot members of Rick's group. A bullet nicked Glenn's shoulder, and his efforts to bandage the wound stopped his barrage of Molotov cocktails for a few moments. Some of the pieces of wood also flew back in the direction of the fence, and a six-inch long splinter went right through the palm of Ron's hand, causing him to cry out. Eugene sent him up to the cabin for medical attention.

On the north side of the fence, the Family members could no longer ignore what was happening to their comrades. One by one, they decided to climb down from the safety of their perches and head back to the south side. Tara, Michonne, Aaron, and Heath watched them go with satisfaction.

A grim smile spread across Rick's face as he noticed more men come running toward the gate area. The plan was working—so far.

Just then, an extra-loud concussive boom rocked the mountain. The third IED, the one that hadn't detonated in the trees had finally gone off. At first, Rick and the others just assumed that it would add to the confusion and damage caused by the stumps. And then they noticed a pine tree, one of the tallest in the forest, was slowly tilting their way.

"Run!" Rick called to the others. Scrambling, Daryl and Eugene went to the right while Rick and Glenn dove left. The falling tree missed them all, but it had crashed directly into the fence, opening up a gaping hole in their defenses.

* * *

"I thought we already said that hiding here was a bad idea?" Carol asked Jan, confused by the suggestion that they hide and seek.

"Staying here in the bedroom is a bad idea, but that's not our only option," Jan said.

Catching on, Lexie nodded. "We could go under the house," she said. "There's a crawlspace, and if we stayed quiet and covered ourselves in walker guts, there's a good chance they'd leave us alone."

"And we could see anyone that came back here before they saw us," Jan added.

"I like it," Lexie said appreciatively.

"But what about our friends?" Carol asked. "It keeps us safe, but what about them?"

"That's where the seek part comes in," Jan said. "Carol, I know you want to help, but you're injured. If you were one of my players, I would bench you. Plus, we need to keep Trigger out of trouble. If you're willing, you could stay here under the cabin with Trigger. He knows how to hide and stay quiet, and you'd both be as safe as we could make you."

Lexie and Carol looked at each other, both frowning.

Jan continued, "Meanwhile, Lexie and I camouflage ourselves and head up as close as we can get to the clinic area. We'll see what we can do to help the others, or at least we'll see what's going on. We'll come back to get you as soon as we can."

"I don't know," Lexie said. "I don't feel good about leaving Trigger."

"You mean you don't know about leaving Trigger with me," Carol clarified.

"No, I don't," Lexie replied, her voice growing loud. "You tried to kill me at the island house! That doesn't exactly qualify you as babysitter material."

The sound of an explosion sounded in the distance. It was followed by the rat-a-tat of gunfire and more booms.

"Whatever we're going to do, we have to hurry," Jan said. "Something's happening."

Lexie looked at Carol, indecision in her eyes.

"Lexie," Carol asked, "did Daryl tell you about my daughter, my Sophia?"

Lexie nodded.

Carol continued. "Then you know that she died alone. I don't blame Rick, but he left her alone, and she died." With tears in her eyes, she looked directly at Lexie, "I promise you that I will not let that happen to another child. Whatever happens tonight, I will not leave Trigger alone."

After a pause, she continued, "Every fiber of my being wants to go back and help my friends. But Jan's right. I can't do that tonight. I have to trust the two of you to do that for me. And in order for me to trust you, you're also going to have to trust me."

Lexie's instincts were screaming that leaving Trigger with Carol was a bad idea. But what other options did she have? The chances that Carol and Trigger would survive the walk back to the clinic area seemed miniscule. Lexie could stay behind, but that would lower Jan's chances of survival and make it less likely that they could help the rest of the group. Jan's plan was the only option that had the possibility of keeping everyone safe and helping their friends.

Lexie hated the plan. Still, she took a deep breath and said, "We'll do it."

* * *

Almost immediately, walkers began staggering through the newly created gap in the fence around the clinic. Rick and Glenn drew their handguns and began firing, while Daryl did the same with his crossbow.

"Eugene!" Rick called above the sounds of gunfire. "It's time for that distraction. Can you make it happen?"

"I can," he said stoutly.

"Daryl, go with Eugene. Watch his back!" Rick added. "Glenn, we've got to get everyone else back to the cabin."

Glenn took off west while Rick went east, both of them circling around the fence perimeter to make sure all their people made it inside.

"Fall back to the cabin!" they shouted. "Everyone fall back!"

From their perches on the platform, Rosita and Carl stopped targeting the Family and instead trained their bullets on the walkers now flowing into the camp area. They soon realized the futility of their efforts, however, and heeding Rick's calls to save their ammunition, they reluctantly ran for shelter.

At the cabin, Jamaal was seeing action much sooner than he had anticipated. Using his knife as often as possible and his pistol only when necessary, he began taking out walkers as they approached the front porch, making it easier for the rest of the group to reach safety. By the time Rick arrived, the ground was littered with a grisly assortment of dead walkers.

"Did everyone make it?" Rick asked Jamaal as he reached the front porch.

Jamaal paused to kill one more walker, then answered, "Everyone that was here is inside except Daryl and Eugene."

"Time for Plan B," Rick said, clapping Jamaal on the shoulder.

* * *

For Slim, the tree falling onto the fence seemed like a gift from heaven. He didn't understand why, but things always seemed to work out for him. He knew how to spot an opportunity when it presented itself, and that gap in the fence was definitely an opportunity.

From his spot high in an oak, he watched through the dim light and smoke as most of Rick's group ran toward the cabin, but he paid particular attention to Daryl in the trailer. It rankled him that Daryl had killed Ethan, and it bothered Slim even more that he had been forced to run from someone. He licked his lips in anticipation of the fight still to come.

"Time for camo!" he called to the men still in the trees to his right and left.

Word spread in both directions and soon the surviving members of the Family, now dwindled to about a dozen men, congregated around Slim's tree, all of them with walker blood and organs spread across their clothing. Slim quickly updated them on his revised plan, and they soon joined the stream of walkers heading through the gap in the fence.

* * *

Inside the cabin, Rick faced a sea of worried faces. "I know this isn't exactly how we planned for things to go, but we're still going to make it," he reassured them.

"Michonne and Aaron took out most of the walkers on the far side of the fence, and the action by the gate drew the Family the way we wanted. Eugene and Daryl are working on a distraction that should attract the rest of the walkers, and hopefully some of the Family too. When that happens, we'll start heading to the trailhead in groups, just like we planned." He paused while everyone nodded in agreement.

"Jamaal, Michonne, and I will draw the Family in here, and we'll blow it on the way out, just like at St. Mary's," he said. "With luck, it will kill most of them and convince the rest that we didn't make it either."

"And without luck?" Glenn asked.

"There's a lot fewer of them than there were," Rick said. "We can handle them in a fight if it comes to that."

Just as he finished his sentence, several gunshots rang out. Rick dashed for the window and twitched the curtain aside. It was still far from dawn, but between the moonlight and the fires burning in the trees, he had enough light to see the trailer.

Slim was standing on the trailer roof, one hand holding a torch and the other holding a gun pointed at Eugene's head. The rest of the Family were slowly closing in on the cabin, along with the growing herd of walkers. Daryl was nowhere to be seen.

Seeing the movement in the window, Slim yelled, "Come on out here, Rick! I'll give you until the count of three!"


	19. Chapter 19 - Standoff

**Standoff**

Rick turned to the group gathered near the front windows of the cabin. "Women and children, go out the back and head for the trailhead," he said, his voice quiet but authoritative.

"Glenn!" Maggie balked at the command, unwilling to leave her husband.

"One!" Slim's voice rang across the yard, attracting a few walkers who had been following the crowd toward the cabin.

"No time to argue," Rick said. "Go!"

Wordlessly, Michonne, Tara, Rosita, Maggie, Jessie, Sam, and Ron filed toward the door. Bethann and Judith were already loaded into carriers and dosed with some medication meant to keep them asleep and quiet. Carl stayed behind with his dad. Rick noticed but didn't argue with his son's decision to group himself with the men.

"Two!" Slim hollered.

"Last stand?" Glenn asked Rick quietly.

Rick nodded as he opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch.

* * *

Jan and Lexie picked their way closer to the front gate of the compound, trying to avoid the patches of fire that now dotted the woods. The light and noise from the battle were also attracting a growing throng of walkers. The women were relying on their usual blood-and-guts camouflage to get them through, but they both felt nervous around this many of the dead.

Hearing the blast of the IED followed by the hollow thud of the tree falling against the fence, they picked up their pace.

Lexie was just about to step into a patch of firelight when Jan put a hand on her friend's chest to stop her. Wordlessly, she pointed up and ahead to where one of the men of the Family was descending from a tree. They watched as he gutted a nearby walker and efficiently spread its innards across the jacket he was wearing. He then walked confidently toward the gate where the rest of the Family were gathering. Cautious, Jan and Lexie followed behind as best they could in the darkness. The gunfire intensified, and the women slowed their pace even more.

By the time the two friends drew close enough to the gate to hear what was going on, the dead were already pouring through the breach in the fence, followed closely by the men from the Family. Jan and Lexie waited until all the men had passed into the compound.

"Do we follow?" Jan whispered.

Lexie nodded in the darkness. "Careful, though—avoid the light."

In this section of the woods, most of the trees seemed to be on fire, as were several walkers roaming the area. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, Jan and Lexie darted towards the fence. With their backs towards the stakes, they slowly slinked towards the hole created by the falling tree. They carefully avoided the walkers who had been caught on the fence and tried to time their arrival at the opening so that they wouldn't be too close to any of the walkers who were also making their way inside.

The gunfire had nearly stopped. Lexie couldn't help but think that was a bad sign for Rick's group. And then she saw Slim and Eugene on top of the trailer. "Oh no," she whispered to Jan. "Look!"

* * *

While Jan and Lexie were approaching the compound, the rest of the women were making their way out.

The majority of the walkers had followed the sound of gunfire and the light from the fires toward the front gate. Here in the back only a few had impaled themselves on the stakes, and they no longer posed any threat. Still, the women knew that before they would run into more of the dead—and possibly some of the Family—in the woods.

Michonne went first, quickly scaling the outward-sloping fence posts and dropping to the other side. Alert for danger, she drew her sword and carefully scanned the surrounding area before turning back to help Tara over the barrier. Michonne resumed her watch as Tara helped Maggie, Ron, Sam, and Jessie climb the barricade. Rosita brought up the rear, and like Michonne, needed no help with the fence.

"So far, so good," Rosita whispered. "No one saw us leave."

"I still don't like it," Maggie said with tears running down her cheeks. "It's not right to leave them like this."

The group shifted uneasily. None of the women or Ron were comfortable with their orders. Really, Sam was the only one who wanted to get away.

Michonne spoke. "It's what Rick told us to do," she said more confidently than she felt. "And if we go back now, our own people might accidentally shoot us. This is the only way I know to keep the babies and kids safe."

"What about Carol and Lexie?" Maggie asked. "We should find them. They could help us or maybe some of us could come back and fight."

Michonne considered. "Does anyone even know where they are?" she asked.

Tara spoke up. "I heard Daryl say they were at a cabin about a mile away. I think I know where it is, and it's on the way to the trailhead."

"OK," Michonne agreed. "We'll find the rest of our people before we decide what to do next. Everyone stay close together in the trees. Keep your eyes out for walkers. Don't use your guns unless you have to." She headed into the woods with Tara by her side and the rest of their group following behind. Rosita quickly took care of a walker that had approached before bringing up the rear.

* * *

Stepping out onto the porch to face Slim, Rick raised his hands above his head—although he left a gun holstered on his hip. From within the cabin, the rest of the men in the group aimed their weapons at the advancing members of the Family.

"I'm here!" Rick called.

Slim spit to the side. "You sure this spineless piece of shit is worth getting' yourself killed?" he taunted.

"He's part of my family," Rick replied, hoping to buy time for Jessie, Judith, and the rest of the women to escape. "I'm told you know a little something about family."

Slim laughed. "Yeah, I know somethin' about family, all right," he hollered. "Family are the people that make you strong. You got a family member that's weak, best to cut your losses and find some new family."

"That's not the way my family works," Rick said. "Come on down here, and let's talk about it."

By now, the walkers and the other men in the Family had approached within a few yards of the cabin. The Family members stopped, but the walkers picked up speed as they smelled fresh meat. Wanting to save his bullets for the fight with the Family, Rick drew his knife.

"No weapons, Rick!" Slim called. For just a moment, he took his gun away from Eugene's head in order to fire a warning shot that glanced off a porch post. Rick dove for cover.

Seeing his opportunity, Eugene launched himself at Slim. Both men went flying off the roof in a tangle of arms and legs. "Now!" Eugene yelled as he fell.

Daryl, who had been hiding on the far side of the trailer, lit one of the remaining Molotov cocktails and threw it through the window of the trailer before running towards the gate at full speed.

Moments before, he and Eugene had opened up several oxygen tanks inside the trailer. While Slim had taken the time to taunt Rick, the former medical clinic had filled with pure oxygen.

Eugene landed on top of Slim on the ground, and while both men were stunned, neither died in the fall. Slim had dropped his pistol, however, and began crawling towards it. Eugene, who knew what to expect, simply laid on the ground staring up at the stars. He had no hope of surviving what was coming and just wanted to enjoy his last few seconds on earth.

When it came, the fireball was even larger than Eugene had expected. All the walkers within 30 feet of the structure immediately burnt to a crisp. Many fell where they stood, while others continued staggering onward, now little more than blackened skeletons held together by a few bits of tissue.

On the side of the trailer closer to the gate, the force of the blast hurled Daryl through the air. He fell to the ground unmoving, tongues of fire flickering along the back of his clothing.

* * *

During the standoff between Rick and Slim, Jamaal hadn't been inactive. His role in Rick's original plan had been to protect the non-fighters in the cabin and then to lead them to safety. Plan B had meant that he would make a last stand at the cabin with Rick and Michonne, serving as the rear guard to buy time for everyone else to escape.

As soon as Slim called to Rick, it was clear that they were on to Plan C. Since no one had actually come up with a Plan C ahead of time, Jamaal felt free to improvise.

When the women and children left, he slipped out behind them. Only a couple of walkers had made it around to the back of the cabin, but Jamaal quickly took one down with his knife so that he could use its innards for camouflage. Hastily, he slathered a minimal amount of blood on his clothing, anxious to get closer to Slim.

While Rick and Slim talked, he slowly moved towards the trailer. Adopting the stagger of a walker, he seemed to be just another part of the mob, and even though it seemed a little unusual for him to be going in the opposite direction as the rest of the walkers, he didn't attract any attention from the dead or the living.

As he neared his goal, it became more difficult to force himself to go slowly. Eventually, he made it to a tree that was close enough for a good shot at Slim and would protect him from the rest of the Family. He would have only one chance, and he had never thought of himself as a sniper before. Carefully, he lined up his shot. He was just about to squeeze the trigger when Eugene suddenly hurled himself at Slim and the two went cartwheeling through the air.

"Damn it," Jamaal muttered. He holstered his gun and ran towards Eugene and Slim. It looked like both men had somehow survived the fall, but Eugene would be no match for Slim in a fight.

Before he could reach the men, the trailer exploded, hurling Jamaal backwards. His head cracked against the tree he had just been using for cover, and his body went still.

A walker staggered by and took a closer look at the body on the ground, trying to decide whether or not it was food.

* * *

Because they were still on the far side of the fence, Jan and Lexie were protected from much of the explosion, but they felt the shockwave ripple through them. They both fell to the ground then quickly scrambled back to their feet to take in the view of the carnage.

Without looking to see if her friend was following, Lexie ran for the opening in the fence. Tentatively, she approached the body lying on the ground, not sure at first if it was one of her friends or someone from the Family. By now, the trailer was burning brightly, providing plenty of light, and she recognized Daryl's vest.

"Daryl!" she gasped, rushing towards the body on the ground. She first attempted to beat at the flames with her hands, but when that proved ineffective, she struggled to roll Daryl over. Jan, who had followed close behind her friend, lent a hand, and they soon had the fire extinguished.

However, Daryl wasn't opening his eyes, and the trailer fire was drawing more walkers than ever.

"Daryl," Lexie pleaded softly. "Daryl, wake up."

Jan felt for a pulse. Finding a faint heartbeat, she nodded at Lexie, who renewed her efforts to bring Daryl around, shaking him frantically and calling his name.

He coughed and opened his eyes. Seeing Lexie left him confused. "Wha—?" he began.

"No time," Lexie said curtly. "Can you walk? We gotta go."

Responding to the note of panic in her voice, Daryl sat up and quickly took stock of the situation. Searing pain ran down the back side of his body, but he could move. Lexie and Jan each offered a hand and pulled him to his feet. They drew their knives, ready to fend off any walkers who took an interest in them, but the dead all seemed intent on reaching the fire.

"We've got to get to the gate," Lexie said.

Daryl disagreed. "Too many walkers," he rasped. "West."

Lexie nodded agreement and wrapped an arm around Daryl to help him walk. The contact made him groan in pain, and she removed her arm quickly.

"I can walk," Daryl said. "Just keep close."

Lexie bent down to retrieve his crossbow, but it was broken beyond repair. "Leave it," Daryl said. "Follow the fence line."

With Lexie holding Daryl's arm to provide what support she could, the two of them headed for the fence. After a few steps, Lexie noticed that Jan wasn't following.

"Jan!" she hissed, anxious for her friend's safety.

Jan trotted over a few steps, but she didn't plan to leave the compound. "You go," Jan replied. "I need to make sure Slim didn't survive."

Lexie understood. If she hadn't found Daryl injured, she would have felt the same way about wanting Slim dead.

"Good luck," she told her friend. The two of them grasped each other's forearms briefly, and then each bent over and moved away—Lexie towing Daryl toward the fence and Jan circling the trailer to locate the enemy responsible for her wife's death.

* * *

The exploding trailer had worked as intended—for the most part. At first, the remaining members of the Family appeared stunned, and the walkers inside the fence stopped heading towards the cabin and instead staggered towards the ball of light.

One or two members of the Family had been close enough to get caught in the explosion. They dropped where they stood, but the rest were still fit to fight. Now leaderless, many seemed unsure what to do without instructions from Slim. Some took off running toward the gate, obviously intending to get away from the scene of the battle as soon as possible. But the majority began firing their guns toward the last place they had seen Rick—the cabin porch.

As soon as the trailer had begun to explode, Rick had dived back through the door of the cabin. He slammed it shut just as the shockwave shattered every window on the front of the house. Several of the men in the house received a few cuts from the flying glass, particularly Aaron, who had been nearest the big picture window, but none were hurt too badly to fight.

When the Family started firing, Rick's group fired right back through the now-open windows, conserving their ammo as much as possible.

"Jamaal!" Rick called. "Jamaal!"

"Here's not here, Dad," Carl replied in between shots. "I haven't seen him since the women left."

"What?" Rick asked incredulously. "He wouldn't just leave."

"Well, he isn't here, that's for sure," Heath observed.

"He was the only one left who knows how to set off the explosives in the cabin." Rick was beginning to sound frantic.

"No, he wasn't," Carl said calmly. "I can do it."

Rick looked at his son. "Show me how," he ordered.

"No time, Dad," Carl objected.

Rick knew his son was right. The remaining Family members would be on them any second. "Everyone out the back," he said, his voice just loud enough to carry inside but not loud enough to reach the men outside. "Carl and I will blow the cabin and follow."

Aaron, Heath, and Glenn headed for the back door without complaint. Two men from the Family had gone around to that side of the cabin, but Heath and Glenn each shot one before opening the door. Without a backward glance, the three men sprinted into the night.

Meanwhile Carl and Rick kept up a steady stream of fire from the front of the house. Because they needed to convince the enemies outside that there will still five people firing, not just two, they stopped trying to conserve their ammunition, instead spraying bullets everywhere. Still, the Family continued closing in. When they were just ten feet from the porch, Rick tapped Carl on the shoulder, and the two of them dashed toward the back door.

The detonator was outside, tucked underneath the back steps. Carl retrieved it from its hiding place and began the complicated series of motions that would set the timer for ten seconds—he hoped.

"Are you sure that's right?" Rick asked.

"No," Carl admitted. "But I think so. Let's go."

The two of them darted toward a nearby tree, hoping to take cover before the cabin blew.

They made it with time to spare. They braced for the explosion, but it didn't come. Three more seconds ticked by. Then five. Then ten.

One of the Family members came out the back door. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" he called. "No need to hide, Rick!"

"Olly, olly oxenfree!" his friend added, laughing.

Rick and Carl drew their weapons, intending to turn and shoot. But before they could, the explosives finally detonated, sending flaming bits of wood and shingles and sheetrock in every direction. Stunned by the blast, they both fell forward onto their hands and knees with their ears ringing and their vision fuzzy.

The flames, which had been confined primarily to the trailer and the trees in and around the fence, suddenly expanded in every direction. The heat from the fire began generating wind, which caused the blaze to jump from treetop to treetop. The battle had created a full-fledged forest fire, and every living thing on top of the mountain was now in danger.


	20. Chapter 20 - Conflagration

**Conflagration**

When the cabin exploded, Daryl and Lexie were on the western edge of the fence looking for a place to cross. The constant stream of gunfire and the light from the fire had drawn more walkers, and the dead were now stacked two and three deep next to the sharpened stakes.

They were far enough from the cabin that the explosion didn't cause them any real damage, but the force of the shockwave made them both stagger. Feeling a hot wind blow past, Lexie looked up to see the fire jumping from tree to tree.

"No more time!" she called to Daryl, who was coughing and rubbing his eyes. "We cross here." Dropping his arm, she drew her knife and began stabbing the walkers within arm's reach. When she had created a space wide enough to cross through, she scrambled over the fence, her pregnant shape making her less agile than usual. Daryl tried to give her a hand, but when she briefly touched his shoulder, he cried out involuntarily from the pain. Pulling himself across was no less excruciating, but somehow he managed. Worried about Daryl but knowing that she could do nothing for him at the moment, Lexie hacked at walkers with a vengeance, trying to keep the way clear long enough for Daryl to get across.

"Go! Go!" Daryl yelled as soon as his feet hit the ground on the other side of the fence. By now the smoke hung thick in the air, and he coughed and gasped for air, his throat already damaged in the trailer explosion.

Lexie turned and carefully threaded her fingers through his before heading away from the fence. "Which way?" she asked. She didn't think he could make it all the way back to his cabin in his current condition—at least not before the fire overtook them.

Daryl had a plan. Taking the lead, he yelled, "This way! Come on!"

Through the smoke, Lexie could barely make out a long black shape ahead. With Daryl injured, they were barely managing to keep ahead of the walkers, but Daryl seemed to think they were headed for some sort of refuge.

It wasn't until Daryl flung the door open that Lexie realized that the dark shape was a limousine. "Get in!" he called to her.

"You first," she replied, readying her knife to kill more of the dead.

Daryl made an exasperated sound and then did as she had instructed, sliding himself onto the bench seat belly first. Lexie watched to make sure he was safe before plunging her knife into the nearest walker. As she withdrew her weapon, she pushed the body back into the rest of the oncoming walkers, buying herself just enough time to dive into the car and slam the door closed before locking it.

Inside the limo it was dark—and eerily quiet. Lexie knew that the herd of walkers must have surrounded the vehicle, but she could barely hear them beyond an occasional thump on the glass. The car was rocking a bit, but she didn't think the walkers could tip it over. Between the darkness of night and the tinting on the windows, she couldn't see much outside either. And there was no indication that an inferno was headed towards them—and towards the cabin where she had left her son.

"Does this thing run?" Lexie asked Darryl.

"No gas," he replied with a cough. "That's why it's not by the cabin."

"Will we be safe from the fire in here?"

Daryl looked at her with an expression that was hard to read. "Don't know."

Lexie needed something to keep her busy—something to keep her mind off all the things she couldn't fix. She rummaged around in the mini bar and found a couple bottles of water. She took the lid off one and handed it to Daryl to drink. A few more minutes of searching turned up a flashlight underneath a seat. After turning it on, she pointed it at Daryl and almost wished she hadn't.

His vest seemed to have protected his back from the worst of the flames. The leather was singed in a few places, but it seemed unlikely that he had any serious burns. His bare arms were a different story. His flesh was blackened from his shoulder to his wrist; Lexie couldn't tell if how much of it was from burns and how much was just dirt and soot. In places blisters had already started to form, and in others the skin took on the white look of burnt charcoal.

The fire had also damaged his legs. It was difficult to assess the extent of his injuries while he was wearing his pants, but burn holes crisscrossed the back of his jeans. She could see bare skin in places, and it looked red and raw.

Sensing her gaze, Daryl looked at Lexie, and she pointed the light at his face. His cheeks was red, and he had scratches on his forehead and chin from when the blast had knocked him down.

He knew that she was worried about him, and he tried to pre-empt the subject. "You want some water?" he asked her, offering the bottle he held.

She shook her head. "Save it for your throat."

Lexie took off the flannel shirt she had been wearing over her tank top. The outside was dirty, but the inside seemed fairly clean. She began tearing the fabric into strips and soaking it in water from one of the other bottles.

"This may hurt a little," she cautioned before laying the cloth on the back of Daryl's arms. He stiffened at first but then relaxed as the cool water helped to soothe the pain.

"Don't worry about me," he protested weakly.

"I need something to do," Lexie said.

"Stayin' alive ain't enough?"

"I need to something to take my mind off the fact that my son is in a wooden cabin less than a mile from here with a forest fire headed his way," she told him a bit testily. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked furiously in an attempt to keep her composure.

"You left Trigger in the cabin?" Daryl asked, clearly upset by the idea.

"It was the best option," Lexie argued as she continued wetting strips of cloth and placing them on his burns. "Carol stayed with him."

"You left him _with Carol_?" Daryl asked with more volume. He rolled to his side slightly to get a better look at her. A few of the pieces of cloth fell off his arms, but he didn't notice.

"Hold still," Lexie chastised before explaining. "She promised not to leave him. She might not like me much, but I don't think she has it in her to hurt a child."

"She doesn't just 'not like you,' she tried to kill you!"

Lexie was surprised. "You know about that?"

"I know enough."

Lexie started to feel angry. "Then why were you living with her out in the woods?"

"Wasn't livin' with her, she just sorta came along. 'Sides, it got her away from you."

 _Oh,_ Lexie thought to herself as her anger melted away, _Even that was about protecting me._ Aloud, she said "Lay back down and let me put these back."

Daryl obeyed, but he wasn't finished arguing.

"You shouldn't have left him."

"If I hadn't left him, you'd be dead."

Daryl answered more softly. "I might still die."

"If the fire and the Family don't get us, you'll probably be alright as long as these burns don't get infected," Lexie argued. "So be good, and let me take care of you."

They lapsed into silence for a moment. Lexie replaced some of the cloth strips on Daryl's arms and eyed his jeans.

"I need to get to the burns on your legs," she announced. "Would you rather I ripped your pants or do you want to take them off?"

"Just leave 'em."

"That's not an option," Lexie insisted.

When Daryl didn't reply, she grabbed hold of one of his pant legs with two hands and prepared to tear it.

"Wait," Daryl said. "These might be the only pants I got." He fumbled for a moment trying to undo the button and zipper, but the motion sent pain shooting down his arms. "I might need help," he admitted.

"Roll to your side."

All business, Lexie first took off Daryl's boots then carefully unfastened his jeans and slid them down his legs, trying not to brush against his burns any more than necessary. Still, he flinched a few times before she got them all the way off.

Using the flashlight, she inspected his skin critically. One burn on the back of his right thigh seemed to be the worst. It was about four inches long with a blister than had already popped and begun oozing fluid. The other half a dozen burns seemed much more manageable, although they were all dirty.

Feeling uncomfortable, Daryl tried to make conversation. "I don't think you've ever been that careful taking my pants off before."

Not yet ready to discuss their relationship, Lexie decided to ignore the comment. "I'm going to try to clean some of these burns that aren't too bad," she told him. "It might sting a little, but we've got to start somewhere."

Daryl nodded his agreement and steeled himself for the pain. Lexie began wiping away some of the dirt as gently as possible, and he was surprised to discover it didn't hurt as much as he had expected. In fact, the pain seemed far easier to bear than her coldness.

"Lex," he began again. "I shouldn'a left."

When she didn't reply, he continued. "I thought it would make things better, and maybe it would have if I had been able to leave all the way. But I couldn't. I don't know if you're mad at me or hate me or if you're back with Jamaal or what, but if we die here, I want you to know I'm sorry."

Lexie stopped wiping at his legs for a moment and sat down on the floor of the limo. "I am mad at you," she said, although she didn't sound angry at all. "I think. But I don't want to fight with you now. I just want us to get out of here and go find Trigger and whoever else's still alive and get off this mountain."

No longer able to contain her emotions, she began to cry quietly, tears running down her cheeks.

"Hey, come 'ere," Daryl said, reaching for her shoulder in an attempt to pull her close. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

She shrugged his arm away. "I know, I know. I just—I'm barely keeping it together here, and the hormones make me emotional."

"You don't have to keep it together," Daryl told her softly. He reached towards her, intending to take her hand, but then he noticed that the way she was sitting made her pregnant belly more noticeable than usual. He placed his fingers there instead. "I can't believe we're having a baby."

Daryl wasn't sure why, but this only intensified the sobbing. "Are you worried about the baby?"

Lexie took a deep breath to stop her crying. "No," she said, wiping at her eyes. "The baby is as safe as I can make him—or her—for now." She breathed deeply again, "I—just would feel so much better if I were with Trigger. And what about Rick and Maggie and Judith—" she sobbed again after mentioning the little girl she had nursed like her own child.

"And Jamaal?" Daryl added quietly.

"And Jamaal," Lexie acknowledged, her voice a little angry. "I should have looked for him—and the others. But when I saw you lying there on the ground, all I thought about was getting you away and getting back to Trigger." Tears were running down her face again, and she wiped them with the inside of her elbow.

Daryl let her words sink in for a minute. "You really did choose me, didn't you?" he asked.

"I told you that, you idiot," Lexie replied, smiling a little through her tears.

Daryl barked a quick laugh before reaching over and stroking the back of her head. He pulled her closer for just a second and kissed her hair, unsure if she would object to a real kiss.

"I couldn't stand it if you leave again," she whispered, as her tears slowed.

"I won't," he said. "Promise."

Lexie scooted closer and gently lifted a stray lock of hair out of Daryl's eyes. She was considering kissing him. Was she ready for that? She ran her hand down the back of his head, and a clump of burnt hair came off in her hand, interrupting the moment.

"Daryl, your head!"

"What?"

"Do you have burns on your head?" she seemed frantic as she rose to her knees for a better look. "I was so worried about your arms and legs I didn't even think about your head." She moved the flashlight back and forth with one hand while she pulled away burnt hair with the other.

"It's fine. Doesn't hurt at all," he muttered. "Stop fussin' at me."

It appeared he was right. While his hair had been singed, the skin beneath looked fine.

"You're hurt. You need someone to fuss at you." Lexie said as she sank back down on the floor. Turning towards him, she became aware that their faces were very close. Tentatively, she stroked the parts of his face that seemed the least injured. Her fingers trailed beside his eye, down across his cheek bone towards his nose and then slowly across his lips. He looked at her, seeming unusually vulnerable in the darkness of the car.

In that instant, all the anger and confusion Lexie had been feeling seemed to melt away, and she wanted him as much as she ever had. Slowly and carefully, she moved her face toward his, and he met her halfway with a kiss.

* * *

The group of women, plus Sam and Ron, were almost to Daryl's cabin, when they heard the explosion. They all looked up, worried.

"It was part of Rick's plan," Michonne said. "Could be a good thing. Let's find Carol and Lexie and get up to the trailhead."

From under the house, Carol heard Michonne's voice and came back up through the trapdoor, leaving Trigger asleep under the cabin.

"Michonne, Maggie," she exclaimed as the women came through the door. Her friends rushed over to hug her.

"This is great, but we gotta go," Tara interrupted. "After that explosion, the woods are on fire. Let's get Lexie and go."

"But Lexie's not here," said Carol. "She and her friend Jan went up to see if they could help in the fight with the Family. Where are Rick and Daryl and everyone else?"

No one said anything for a moment. Then Michonne spoke up. "The fight went bad. The Family had Eugene hostage; maybe they killed Daryl. We don't know. Rick sent us away. He had a plan to take out the Family, but they were outnumbered."

"But—" Carol looked like she had a million questions, but Rosita cut her off.

"We don't have time to explain everything now," she said. "The woods are on fire, and we couldn't go back to help even if we wanted to. Our only chance is to get out of the woods and up to the trailhead. Anyone else who makes it will meet us there." She grabbed Carol by the arm and started to propel her to the door, but Carol stopped.

"I can't go with you," she said simply.

"I don't like leaving them either," Maggie said, cradling Bethann to her chest. "But it's the best chance for at least some of us to stay safe."

"That's not it," Carol explained. "I have Trigger. He's sleeping under the cabin."

"Oh, I'll get him," Michonne offered.

"No," Carol objected. "I promised I would stay here with him. Daryl, Lexie, they'll come back here looking for him. I have to stay."

"Carol, there's no guarantee this cabin will be safe much longer," Maggie protested. "Between the fire and the Family. . ."

"That's a chance I have to take," Carol said, "but not the rest of you. You go. If anyone else from the group shows up here, I'll tell them where you are."

"We should at least take Trigger," Jessie said. "Keep him safe. If they show up, you can tell Daryl and Lexie where he is."

"No!" Carol said with tears springing to her eyes. "I have to stay here with him. I promised."

The rest of the women eyed her, not sure why she was so adamant about staying with Trigger, but Jessie thought she understood.

"It's something I have to do," Carol continued looking right at Jessie. "It's the right thing. I have to keep my promise—for Daryl and Lexie."

Jessie nodded. "We should go," she told the rest of the group.

"And leave Carol here alone? With Trigger?" Michonne asked, incredulous.

"She'll follow after us if it gets too dangerous," Jessie said.

"It's too dangerous now!" Maggie objected.

"That's why _you_ have to go," Carol said. "Let me take care of Trigger. It's the least I can do." No one but Jessie understood the last part of that comment, but they were running out of time for discussion.

"Whatever we're gonna do, we should do it soon," Tara put in.

"We'll go, but I'm leaving you with a weapon," Michonne said. She handed Carol a pistol, and led the rest of the women out into the night. As she was leaving, it occurred to her that it was the second time in one night that she was leaving against her better judgment.

* * *

Trying to stay low, Jan kept her gun drawn as she skirted around the remains of the burning trailer, heading for the area where she had seen Slim and Eugene fall. She saw Eugene almost immediately; he was lying on his back on the ground with his eyes closed and a few wisps of smoke rising from his clothes.

"Eugene," she said, shaking him. "Are you Eugene?"

He opened his eyes. "Who are you?" he asked as he sat up.

"Jan. Lexie's friend," Jan replied tersely. "Where's Slim?"

"He was over there," Eugene gestured towards the trailer. "I think he must have gotten caught in the explosion."

"Or not," said a voice right behind her. Turning around, Jan saw Slim with his gun pointed right at her head.

"Well, now, I didn't expect to see you again," Slim addressed Jan jovially. The explosion had clearly caused him some trouble. His skin and clothing were black with soot, and bits of his beard had burnt away. His eyes were bright with mania, making him seem more frightening than usual. "But unless I miss my guess your cute little friend Lexie will be somewhere nearby," he continued. "Let's go see if we can find her." He gestured with his weapon toward the gate. Eugene and Jan complied, leading the way.

"You know, I just knew things were gonna work out tonight," Slim told them, sounding almost giddy. "Of course, this isn't quite what I had imagined, but I knew that bitch would be mine one way or another. You've just got to have faith!"

The walkers were congregated at the hole in the fence, all intent on reaching the burning trailer, leaving the gate clear. Slim undid the latch and swung it open. Eugene and Jan stepped through. "Now, where's your friend?"

Knowing that Lexie and Daryl had headed west, Jan pointed east. "This way," she said.

But Eugene spotted the wheelbarrow to the west. "Actually, I am fairly certain she was over in this vicinity," he said.

Jan gave him a dirty look.

Slim saw her glance and chuckled. "Well, if you're sure," he said.

"I am," Eugene said. He walked slowly toward the wheelbarrow, intending to have Slim step on the mine that he knew was underneath, but not sure how to accomplish his goal. At the last second, he pretended to trip and fell to the ground. Slim stumbled over Eugene's legs, but didn't fall into the wheelbarrow the way Eugene had hoped.

"What the hell?" Slim asked, starting to feel suspicious.

Eugene pantomimed that Jan should push Slim into the wheelbarrow, but neither she or Slim had any idea what his gestures meant.

"Get up," Slim said to Eugene, irritated.

Eugene obeyed as slowly as possible, racking his brain for a way to get Slim to step on the ground under the wheelbarrow.

"We need the wheelbarrow," he burst out.

"What?" Slim asked.

"The wheelbarrow—we need it. . . to get to Lexie," Eugene stammered.

Jan and Slim both stared at him skeptically. At that second, however, the cabin blew. This far away, they weren't in any danger from the flames, but the force of the blast shook the ground enough that Slim took two steps forward to keep his balance.

Another, much smaller explosion rocked the night as Slim's foot found the improvised mine Eugene had planted there earlier. A hundred ball bearings tore through Slim's body as he lurched upwards, and the wheelbarrow went flying high into the air.

Jan watched as Eugene flew backwards. _He's too limp,_ she thought to herself. She took a step towards him, intending to help, when something struck her in the head and the world went black.

* * *

Inside the limo, it was no longer as dark as it had been just a few moments before. Lexie could see some of the faces of the walkers who were trying to force their way through the glass. It was difficult to make out what exactly was going on outside, but it was definitely brighter out there. Lexie felt warmer as well—and she didn't think it was just her response to the kissing. Sweat bubbled up on her forehead and trickled down the back of her neck.

"Do you think the car's on fire?" she asked softly.

"I don't think so," Daryl said. "There's no gas, and the light's coming from the side windows, not the engine. I think it's the walkers."

"The walkers are on fire?"

"Mmm-hmm. Some of 'em."

Lexie didn't know why, but for some reason the thought of walkers on fire made them even more horrifying than usual. It wasn't that she was scared—more that it was just so wrong for someone to be in flames and not realize it. She scooted a little closer to Daryl, who stroked her hair to calm her. Unfortunately, the movement sent fresh pain shooting through his arms.

Lexie noticed. "The heat—is it making your burns worse?"

"It's alright," he replied softly.

Ignoring him, Lexie re-wet the cloths on his arms and gently placed them back down. Even though the water wasn't all that cool, it felt soothing, and Daryl sighed without intending to.

"You should try to sleep," she told him. "You need to heal."

"What I need is to put my pants back on in case we need to run."

"If we have to run, I promise I'll bring your pants," Lexie said with a smile. "Besides, it's dark. Who's gonna see you?"

Daryl grunted. "At least get me my knife."

Lexie retrieved the weapon from Daryl's pants and handed it to him. She sat back down on the floor near Daryl's head. The light was dimming a bit outside the car, and while she could still see some walkers, it seemed like there were fewer around the vehicle than before.

Gently, she ran her fingers across Daryl's cheek. "You know, in a weird way, this is kind of nice," she said.

Daryl's look made it clear that he didn't share her opinion.

Lexie tried to explain. "Not you being hurt, obviously, and not the worrying about Trigger and everyone else," she said. "But being here—just the two of us—I didn't think I would have that again. It's nice."

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "That part is nice."

A sudden bang on the roof of the car caused Lexie to jump. The ceiling had suddenly dented in about six inches in the center.

"What was that?" Lexie asked, feeling very worried.

Daryl clutched his knife tightly, watching for a moment to see if they would need to flee the safety of the vehicle. After a few moments, he finally answered. "Whatever it was, it didn' break through. We'll be alright."

"You don't know that," Lexie retorted.

"We're together; we'll be alright," Daryl asserted.

Lexie let that comment stand. She agreed, after all.

The two of them sat in silence for several more minutes. When nothing else happened, she asked the questions that had been bothering her since the kiss in the cabin. "Are you still in love with me?"

"You know I am."

"Then why did you leave?"

"Just didn' want to be in the way."

"That's stupid."

Daryl disagreed, but he didn't argue. Instead, he asked, "Did anyone ever tell you the whole story about when Judith was born?"

"They told me that Rick's wife Laurie died giving birth. That Maggie had to do an emergency C-section and that Carl had to kill his own mother."

"There's more," Daryl said. "When everything went bad, Rick was in the hospital. His best friend Shane thought he died or was gonna die. Shane was his best friend, right, so he took care of Rick's wife and his little boy. One thing led to another, and then Laurie and Shane were together."

"Oh," Lexie breathed, beginning to see the similarities to her own situation.

"But then Rick found us. Laurie went back to him. She tried to hide what happened between her and Shane, but Rick knew. Shane should'a left, but he thought he was in love. And then Judith—I don't think Laurie even knew who the father was."

"But—" Lexie started to object, but Daryl wasn't done yet.

"Eventually, Shane tried to kill Rick, and Rick had to kill his best friend. His best friend. That just ain't right. I always thought if I had been Shane, I would'a done better. Maybe now I know how hard it was."

Lexie looked down, thinking about Daryl's story. Eventually, she asked, "Do you know why I love you?"

"Naw, I've never been able to figure it out. I just hoped you wouldn't catch on that you could do so much better."

Lexie smiled and shook her head. "No, Daryl, I couldn't do better. You always try to do the right thing, even when it's not so easy to see what the right thing is. You're the most loyal friend anyone could ever have, and you always try to protect me—even when you hurt me, you did it because you were trying to protect me from something worse."

Daryl bit at his lip, feeling uncomfortable with the praise. Lexie continue, "The thing is, I wasn't married to Jamaal, and I do know who the father of my child is." She gently took Daryl's hand and placed it on her belly.

"I'm sorry about Jamaal," she said, her eyes growing a little teary. "You were right, I really loved him, and part of me always will. But you're the man I love now, and you're the man I want to raise our children. If we have to leave the rest of the group so that you and Jamaal aren't together, then fine, that's what we'll do. But you and I and our children, we have to stay together." She was pleading now, part of her still worried that Daryl would leave her again.

"I won't leave you," Daryl whispered huskily. "I already promised." He cupped her chin with his hand and kissed her slowly, wishing that his body weren't in so much pain and he could truly show her how he felt.

* * *

After the other women left the cabin, Carol stepped outside to judge the fire situation for herself. The smell of the smoke was becoming more intense by the moment, and she could see that the sky was much lighter towards the compound. The entire forest seemed tensed, as if the very trees and air knew something bad was headed that way. She couldn't see or hear any walkers or any of the Family at the moment, but she knew they were out there all the same.

"Please hurry," she whispered aloud, not sure if she meant Daryl or Lexie or if she were actually praying.

Whatever was going to happen, she needed to be prepared. As she headed back inside the cabin, she double-checked her weapons. Finding her pistol and knife in order, she moved on to water. Still in pain from her earlier ordeal, she slowly carried every container of water she had to the trapdoor and lowered them to the ground. Then she grabbed up a pillowcase that Lexie had torn into strips for bandages and threw them down as well. Finally, she gingerly lowered herself below the cabin, closing the trapdoor behind her.

It was noticeably cooler down here, and the smoke wasn't nearly as thick. Still, she felt like she should take precautions. She dipped one of the strips of cloth in the water and tied it around her face like a bandana. Carefully, she scooted closer to Trigger, who was still sleeping soundly.

 _I wish I could sleep like that,_ she thought to herself.

Gently, so as not to wake him, she touched the back of her hand to his forehead. He still felt cool, and his breathing seemed normal. She debated whether or not to tie a bandana around his face or not. She wet a cloth so it would be ready, but she laid it to the side for the time being, not wanting to take the chance that it might suffocate him.

She curled her body around the toddler protectively. It reminded her of times when she had slept cuddling Sophia. She noticed that it didn't hurt so much to think of her daughter any more. Part of her was even glad that Sophia hadn't been there that night. She couldn't imagine what it would have been like if the girl had been there when Slim and Ethan arrived.

The sound of movement in the woods caught her attention. Footsteps, too fast to be walkers, were headed directly towards the cabin. She tried to peer through the latticework that enclosed the area under the cabin, but it was too dark to see whether it was a friend or an enemy. The cabin door creaked open. She heard a voice call, "Carol?" but it was too quiet for her to tell who it was.

Wanting to be prepared, she pulled out her gun before opening the trap door and cautiously peering over the edge. She couldn't see anyone in the room, so she started to climb out.

"Carol, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," Carol replied, a little surprised now that she recognized the voice. She pulled herself to her feet and lowered her bandana to say hello.

"I'm so sorry, Carol," the visitor said. Carol was confused. Sorry for what?

And then a gun went off, and Carol understood. Her limp body fell to the floor.


	21. Chapter 21 - Desolation

_**AN:** This feels like a good place to stop, and I think this will be the last chapter—at least for a while. I left one big question open, though, on purpose so I have a place to start if I decide to come back and write more later. Maybe if I feel inspired by the new season, I'll start a new story._

 _Thanks, everyone, for reading, and I'm especially grateful to those of you who left reviews! I hope you enjoyed the story._

* * *

 **Desolation**

Trigger awoke all alone underneath the cabin. It was fully daylight and dust motes danced in the sunbeams shining through the latticework that surrounded the cabin. _Where is everyone?_ he wondered. Should he wait for Day or Mama or Carol?

He wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked around. He wasn't alone after all. There was an animal here with him, and he knew what this animal was.

"Kitty-kitty!" he called. "Kitty-kitty!"

He started to crawl towards the creature, but the raccoon, most definitely not a kitty, was not inclined to be friendly. It hissed at the toddler and bared its teeth.

 _Oh,_ thought Trigger. _Danger. Hide._

He looked around, but there were no hiding places under the cabin—it was just one open space. He did notice that the trapdoor was open, but he was too short to pull himself out. After thinking for a moment, he pulled over one of the plastic containers of water that Carol had left in the crawlspace and tipped it over. It gave him just enough of a boost that he could hoist himself up into the cabin.

Looking around, he spotted Carol's legs. He didn't really like her, but maybe she would give him breakfast. He walked over and pushed against her legs, but she didn't wake up.

"Kay-oh," he said. "Kay-oh, wate up!"

He walked closer to her head. Her eyes were still open, but she had a small hole in the center of her forehead. Dark, sticky blood had pooled on the floor around her. Trigger got some on his hands.

 _Danger!_ he thought again. It was definitely time to hide. He ran into Daryl's bedroom, crawled under the bed, and scooted as close as he possibly could to the wall. He would wait, but he hoped Mama and Day would come soon.

* * *

In the limo, Lexie woke up with a full bladder and a nauseous stomach. She wished she had a few crackers.

She was still sitting on the floor leaning against the seat. Daryl was snoring gently, his arm dangling across her shoulder. She hadn't meant to fall asleep—she had meant to stand watch so that Daryl could get the sleep he needed. But staying up all night just wasn't in the cards at this stage of her pregnancy. She knew she was lucky that nothing bad had happened overnight.

The sun was streaming in the windows, which meant that the walkers had moved on—or at least most of them had. She decided to chance opening the door so that she could pee in the woods. If it wasn't safe, she would wake Daryl up, but if everything was fine, she figured she might as well let him sleep.

She squeezed the door latch very gently and opened the door just a crack. She could hear a few moans nearby, but no walkers rushed to get in the car. Clutching her knife in her right hand, she swung the door open the rest of the way and stepped out.

The landscape around her had been transformed. Where once the forest had been filled with greens and browns and yellows now everything seemed to be the same shade of gray. The sky, even the air itself was the same ashy shade. Near the limo, a dozen walkers lay sprawled on the ground, many of them with limbs bent at unnatural angles. A few still gnashed their teeth at Lexie, but none could walk. Most were now truly dead.

A burnt tree lay across the roof of the car. _I guess I know what caused the dent,_ Lexie thought. She realized again how lucky they had been to survive the night. She took a few steps away from the car, stepping quietly by instinct. Somewhat surprised, she noticed that there was still living grass under her feet. It was covered in soot and ash, but much of it hadn't burned. The bushes nearby still had leaves as well, although they too were gray. The fire must have swept quickly through the upper branches of the trees. She wasn't sure how the walkers had caught fire, but the leaves and grass gave her hope. If the fire had stayed up high, maybe Trigger was ok.

She quickly emptied her bladder and then returned to the limo. She was too excited now to let Daryl keep sleeping.

Back inside the vehicle, she stretched out her hand to shake him, but then thought better of it. "Babe, wake up," she said.

"Mmm," he replied without opening his eyes.

Lexie smiled and kissed him on the lips. "It's morning, and we're still alive," she said, her voice full of wonder.

Daryl's eyes flickered open. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," she replied. "Time to put your pants on."

* * *

Near the trail marker, most of Rick's group was sleeping in clumps on the ground. A wire hastily strung with bits of metal served as an advance warning system, but there hadn't been any walkers nearby in hours. Rick supposed most of them had been burned in the forest fire.

He and Heath were on watch, and Rick had been using the quiet time to plan the group's next move.

On the ground nearby, Jessie quietly stretched and then looked up at Rick, being careful not to wake any of the kids spread around her.

"Good morning," she whispered as she sat up cautiously.

"Good morning," he responded with a kiss. "All's quiet."

Jessie scanned the horizon. The fire hadn't spread this far up the mountain, for which she was truly grateful. Still, the stench of smoke hung heavy in the air.

Stepping over the sleeping bodies, she moved over to sit by Rick. "Is the fire out?" she asked quietly.

"Seems like it is."

"No sign of anyone else?"

"Not yet," he replied, trying to keep his voice optimistic.

Michonne approached soundlessly from Rick's other side. "We should go back and look," she said. "I never should have left Carol and Trigger."

"Carol made her own choices," Rick said. "But you're right that we should have a look.

Unexpectedly, Rosita spoke up. "I'll go."

Rick, Jessie, and Michonne all looked at her. "I need to see about Eugene," she explained.

Rick nodded. "You, me, and Michonne will go."

"I want to go too," Glenn added from nearby.

This time, Rick shook his head. "I need you here," he said. "If we're not back by nightfall, or if you hear any gunfire or explosions, I want you to take the group and start heading north on the trail."

Glenn nodded in acknowledgement.

"Be careful," Jessie whispered.

* * *

The walk to the cabin took longer than Lexie would have liked, but all things considered, Daryl did much better with the hike than she would have expected. Still, by the time they arrived, Daryl was coated in sweat, and it looked like every step was causing him pain.

"Car—" Lexie started to call as they approached, but Daryl clapped a hand to her mouth.

"We don't know what's in there," he cautioned. "Take it slow."

He drew his knife, and Lexie checked the ammunition in her gun. They flattened themselves against the wall on opposite sides of the front door before Daryl turned the knob and flung it open. Because she had the gun, Lexie went first, quickly turning in every direction to look for intruders.

"Oh my God, Carol!" she wailed as she caught sight of the figure on the floor. She lowered her gun and took a step toward the body.

"Finish clearing the building first," Daryl warned.

Choking down a sob, Lexie obeyed, but it was difficult to focus knowing a friend was lying dead nearby.

Coming in behind her, Daryl crouched near Carol. Wincing from the pain, he checked for a pulse, even though he knew it was futile. The gunshot to her forehead made it all too clear what had happened.

"Carol," he said softly. His body shook, overcome with grief.

Meanwhile, Lexie was becoming frantic in her concern for her son. "Trigger!" she called. "Trigger, are you here?"

She crawled down through the trapdoor and searched under the house with her flashlight. She found only the raccoon, who hissed at her.

As she scrambled back to the main floor, Daryl was becoming concerned as well. "Here, help me up," he said, holding out a hand.

She did as requested, and together they went room by room, calling for their toddler.

"Day?" asked a sleepy voice from under the bed. "Mama?"

Diving to the floor, Daryl peered under the bed. "Little man!" he exclaimed with tears rushing down his face. "You're OK!"

"Danguh," Trigger said. "Me hide."

"You did the right thing, buddy," Daryl said. "You did just right."

Her hand pressed over her lips, Lexie tried to hide her sobs from her son as he crawled out from under the bed and clambered into Daryl's lap for a hug. She scooted over and wrapped her arms around both of them, overjoyed that the two people most important to her had survived.

It didn't take long for Trigger to tire of the hug, and he squirmed in Daryl's grasp. "Beakfast?" he asked. "Me hungwy."

"I'll find something," Lexie said. "Daryl can you keep him in here?"

She returned to the bedroom after a few moments with some dry cereal and some water she found in the cabin's tiny kitchen. Daryl had moved up to the bed where he was again stretched out on his belly, while Trigger was examining a bug he found in one of the room's corners.

"What should we do about Carol?" Lexie asked Daryl.

"Bury 'er," he said. "I'll do it."

Lexie shook her head. "Daryl you don't have the energy for that right now," she began. "And we don't have the time if we're going to catch up to the rest of the group at the trailhead."

Daryl chewed his lip, considering her argument.

"We don't have to go," he suggested. "We could stay here, the three of us—four of us." He looked meaningfully at her belly.

Lexie looked straight in his eyes, considering this proposal very seriously. But before she could reply, there was a knock at the door.

Cautious, she drew her gun and peered through one of the cabin's windows, catching a glimpse of Rick, Michonne, and Rosita. Smiling, she holstered her gun and flung the door wide, grabbing Michonne in a hug.

Not expecting this kind of welcome, Michonne laughed aloud, and Rick and Rosita quickly joined in. Then Rick caught sight of the body on the floor.

"What happened?" he asked in his best detective voice, as he walked over to Carol's form, carefully avoiding the pool of blood on the floor. "Did she attack you?" he asked, as if he assumed that Lexie had shot the other woman.

Taken aback, Lexie struggled to find an answer, but Daryl saved her the trouble. "She was like that when we got here this morning," he called from the bedroom.

Glad to hear his friend's voice, Rick quickly walked over to the bedroom. But the sight of Daryl's burns stopped him in his tracks. "What happened to you?" he asked.

Daryl tried to make light of it. "Some idiot told me to blow up a trailer, and like an idiot I did what he said."

"Can you move?" Rick asked.

"I'm fine."

"You're not _fine_ ," Lexie disagreed. Turning to Rick, she added, "We've been putting water on the worst burns, but it's bad."

By now Rosita and Michonne had come over as well and both were staring at Daryl's blackened arms in horror.

No one really knew what to say, but Trigger broke the silence. "More bugs," he said happily spotting a line of ants coming to feast on the dead bug the toddler had been examining. "Look Day! More bugs!"

Everyone smiled, but the sight of the ants reminded Rick of more urgent priorities. "We need to bury Carol," he said. "And check on the compound. And let everyone else know what's going on here."

"I'll start digging," Michonne offered. "I should have made Carol come with us last night."

"Has there been any sign of the Family?" Rick asked Daryl.

"Naw," Daryl replied. "But they must have been here to shoot Carol."

Rick nodded, considering his next move.

Lexie had some questions of her own and pulled Rosita aside. "Did everyone else make it?" she asked.

"Most of them are at the trail," Rosita hedged. "A couple haven't shown up yet. Eugene is missing."

"What about Jamaal?" Lexie asked quietly, not wanting Daryl to hear her question.

"We'll find him," Rosita said firmly, looking over at Rick.

"We need to head up to the clinic," Rick said, acknowledging Rosita's unspoken request. "Rosita and I. As soon as Carol is in the ground, the rest of you head up to the trailhead. Let everyone else know what's going on. We'll get Eugene and Jamaal and meet you there."

"My friend—Jan—" Lexie added. "She's up there too. She wanted to kill Slim."

"We'll get her," Rick promised.

* * *

 _So this is what a war looks like,_ Jan thought to herself as she opened her eyes. It was almost like the morning after a big snowstorm, only instead of sparkling whiteness everything was covered in several inches of dingy, feathery flakes.

Her next thought: _Why aren't I dead?_ As she sat up, she heard the sound of metal scraping against stone and realized a wheelbarrow was covering the lower half of her body. _That must have been what hit my head,_ she realized. Moving the slightly battered wheelbarrow aside, she checked her body for bites. Nothing. Apparently her camouflage from the night before had been enough to protect her from the walkers—who had probably all been distracted by the fires anyway.

She stood to take stock of her surroundings. A few walkers on the ground nearby moaned and gnashed their teeth, but so much of their flesh had burned away that they were little more than skeletons. Only a few feet away, one of those gnashing skulls sported the remains of a voluminous beard. _Slim_ , Jan realized, feeling satisfied that he was dead, even if she hadn't been the one to do it.

 _What about Eugene?_ she wondered next. His body lay largely intact, but his abdomen had been ripped open sometime during the night. She wasn't sure if he had died in the blast from the mine or if the subsequent attack from a walker had been his undoing. She supposed it didn't matter—either way the result was the same. Catching her scent, Eugene's face rotated towards her, and his jaw made some half-hearted snaps. With no fanfare, she drove her knife through his eye, ending his misery.

Jan was beginning to wonder if anyone at all was still alive. Slowly spinning in a circle, she could see nothing moving in the blackened trees or inside the fence.

Hoping against hope, she decided to retrace Lexie's steps. Re-entering the fence, she walked in the direction that her friend and Daryl had been travelling when she had last seen them. Several corpses lay along the path, but she didn't think any of them were Lexie or Daryl.

As she approached the fence, she saw a cluster of dead walkers pinioned against the stakes. _This must have been where they crossed,_ she realized, allowing herself to feel a faint flicker of hope. She climbed over in the same place and headed into the trees.

Her steps slowed as she wondered where they would have gone. Lexie would have wanted to return to the cabin for Trigger, she knew, but would Daryl have been able to make it that far?

Something dark in the distance caught her eye. It was the limo, now surrounded by dead walkers. _Maybe they hid inside,_ Jan thought to herself. She noticed the tree branch on the roof of the vehicle and realized her friend could still be inside.

She quickened her pace and began climbing over the downed tree whose limb had caused so much damage to the limousine.

And then she stopped short. Underneath the tree were two bodies, both badly burned, but one had clearly had long blond hair. They lay face-first in the dirt, as if they had been heading towards the limo when the tree fell on them. And two skeletal hands lay intertwined, as if they had been holding hands.

"No!" Jan said aloud as tears sprang to her eyes. She rushed to the vehicle and ripped open the door.

No one was inside.

Giving in to her grief, the normally stoic Jan sat in the dirt next to the car and bawled.

* * *

With every step that Rick and Rosita took, the world seemed to become more colorless, as if they were stepping into a black-and-white photo. Near Daryl's cabin, only the tops of the trees had burned, but as they moved closer to the fenced-in area, the scorch marks moved lower down the trunks until they finally reached the ground and spread. The air felt heavy with smoke, and the smell of the fire assaulted their nostrils. It wasn't the wholesome smell of a campfire, but the acrid stench of burning hair and flesh mixed with melting plastic and rubber.

With all the foliage burned away, they had no cover, so they approached cautiously from the rear of the compound, climbing over the sharpened stakes very close to the place where the women had crossed the night before.

Once inside, Rick stopped and gaped. In the light of day, it was clear that almost nothing was left of the cabin and the trailer. A few stray two-by-fours still pointed to the sky but none of the walls remained. Bits of ash and paper floated on the breeze, and broken glass crunched under Rosita's feet as she moved toward the cabin, intent on finding Eugene and Jamaal.

"We should check near the trailer—where the trailer was," Rick said, correcting himself. "I don't want to spend more time here than we have to."

Rosita nodded her agreement and turned towards the front of the compound. She kept her gun drawn and scanned each body she passed, looking for anything familiar. Most of the bodies had burned beyond all recognition, and she wondered how she would know if she found Eugene or Jamaal.

The number of dead bodies on the ground increased as they grew closer to the front of the fence, and at times they had to step carefully to avoid hungry mouths. The two of them circled the area where the trailer had been without recognizing any of the clothing on the dead.

"Here," Rick called suddenly.

"What is it?" Rosita asked.

"Footprints heading toward the gate," Rick said. "More than one set. This isn't walkers. Could be Eugene or Jamaal . . . or it could be the Family . . . or both."

Rosita checked her ammunition again and gave a quick nod. She and Rick stalked toward the gate, alert for any danger.

Once outside the fence, it didn't take them long to find what was left of Eugene. Rosita's face grew hard with the discovery, and Rick's mouth twisted into a frown as he knelt beside the body.

"Someone put him down after he turned," Rick observed, pointing at the knife wound in Eugene's skull. "Could'a been Jamaal or even Lexie's friend."

"Do you think—" Rosita started to ask a question, but the sudden sound of gunfire interrupted her thought. Instinctively, she and Rick dropped to the ground and began scanning the woods for targets.

Through the trees, they spotted several flashes of color. "That's far enough!" a voice called. A second shot glanced off a burned tree trunk several feet away from Rick.

"You got a count?" Rick whispered to Rosita.

"At least six," she whispered back, "maybe more."

"Who's there?" Rick called as he got ready to shoot.

"You know who we are," the voice replied. He sounded young; it definitely wasn't the same man who had a gun on Eugene the night before.

"Slim's dead," the voice continued. "And so are a lot of our people. The one's of us that're left got no beef with you. 'Sides your people are dead or gone too. You go your way, and we'll go ours."

"Don't trust them," Rosita muttered.

"I don't," Rick reassured her. "But if we can get out of here without another fight, we should. We're outnumbered, and there's nothing left for us here."

Rosita nodded almost imperceptibly.

"We're goin'" Rick called.

He and Rosita kept their guns ready as they dashed, still crouched, towards the fence, but no more gunfire came. Once inside the protective barrier, they picked up the speed, sprinting for the far side of the compound.

Neither said a word until they reached the fence on the far side again. "Let's get back to the trailhead and get everyone off this mountain," Rick said. "I don't like this truce."

With tears in her eyes, Rosita nodded again.

* * *

"What'd you do that for?" Conner asked. He and seven other surviving members of the Family had been huddled in the woods since dawn, arguing about their next move. All of the survivors were young, and one, Delshawn, was seriously injured.

"Do what?" Nick asked belligerently.

"Let them go," said Conner. "We should avenge Slim and the others."

"Take a look around," Nick sneered. "The seven of us are all that's left. They took out most of our group last night. I'm not signin' up to be killed."

"There was just two of 'em," protested Conner. "We could of taken them. We should of."

Nick grabbed Conner by the front of his shirt and shoved him up against a tree. Nick easily outweighed Conner by fifty pounds, and anyone could clearly see that he would come out ahead in a fair fight.

"I say it's time to cut our losses, head back down to where we left the women," Nick said in his most menacing voice. "You got a problem with that."

Conner quickly shook his head, and as Nick looked around, the other boys didn't have a problem either.

Seeing that he had become the de facto leader, Nick decided to make another decision for the group. "Delshawn isn't going to make it back down."

"We can't just leave him here," protested one of the other teenagers. "There's still roamers in the woods."

"We'll leave him a knife," Nick said. "If he makes it, he can come on back down to the place by the bridge. If not, then he doesn't." He turned and began walking downhill, hoping that the rest of the group would follow.

"Guys, come on," Delshawn began, but he didn't have much hope. The gunshot wound on his leg already looked infected, and he head burns on his hands and the side of his face.

Without another word, the boys followed Nick one by one. The last dropped a knife on Delshawn's lap and clapped him on the should without meeting his eyes before walking away and leaving him behind.

* * *

It didn't take long for Jan to cry herself out. And when she stood, she knew what she needed to do.

Turning, she headed purposefully toward the cabin where she and Lexie had left Carol and Trigger the night before.

But when she arrived, her heart sank. No one came running out to greet her, and as she opened the door, she saw a pool of blood on the floor.

"Trigger!" she called. "Carol!"

She quickly ran to the trapdoor and lowered herself beneath the house, but she found only the raccoon that had frightened Trigger earlier.

Knowing Trigger's penchant for hiding, she methodically searched the entire cabin room by room, but she didn't find the three-year-old.

She contemplated her options. Clearly something terrible had happened here, but there was no body. That meant that either someone had removed the corpse, or it had turned and walked away, or whomever was injured had escaped. She should head toward the trailhead, she decided. If Carol and Trigger were still alive, that was where they would have gone, and anyone else alive from their group was probably there as well.

But as she stood to leave, she heard a sound that changed her plans. Gunshots. From the direction of the compound.

Jan took off running, heading back to the clinic.

* * *

"It's Dad and Rosita," Carl called. He was on watch at the trailhead, and everyone had been nervous since they caught the faint sounds of gunfire about a half hour earlier.

Lexie rose to her feet and shaded her eyes, hoping to see Jamaal and Jan returning with Rick and Rosita. Daryl was lying on his stomach on the ground, but he raised up on his elbows watching to see Lexie's reaction.

As Rick and Rosita reached the group, everyone crowded around. Out of breath from running, Rick needed a few minutes before he could talk.

"We found Eugene," he said finally. "He didn't make it."

Tara rushed over to Rosita and grabbed her in an embrace. Everyone else stared at the ground, and tears sprang to a few eyes. Some had already cried so much when they heard about Carol that they no longer had any tears left.

Lexie stared expectantly at Rick, knowing what he must be going to say next, but hoping against hope that she was wrong.

"Some of the Family survived," Rick said. "I'm sorry, Lexie, but we didn't find anyone else alive."

Her face contorted, and she dabbed at her eyes. Despite the pain, Daryl climbed to his feet and pulled her into a close hug. She began crying in earnest with her head buried in Daryl's chest.

"Unfortunately, we don't have time to mourn," Rick said. "The Family said they would let us go, but I don't trust 'em. We're not in the best shape. We've gotta get as far away from here as we can before night."

Everyone murmured agreement and began collecting the meager packs they'd brought with them. Being back on the run felt all too familiar.

* * *

As Jan climbed over the fence into the compound, she couldn't detect any signs of danger—other than the hungry dead lying on the ground. She made a careful circuit, staying a few feet inside the fence, but she didn't see anyone alive inside or outside the fence.

A groan caught her attention.

She couldn't have said why, but it didn't sound quite the same as the other moans coming from the walkers. A tall black man lying near a tree sat up. Jan looked him over carefully. He was in much better shape than most of the corpses although he had quite a bit of gore on his shirt and a fair number of burns. His left leg was twisted at a strange angle, which looked like it would make it difficult for him to walk. Jan was fairly sure she could take him out, and she drew her knife.

But then the man began rubbing the back of his head.

Jan looked at his face more closely. Could he be alive? She didn't remember him from the Family, but she hadn't seen all of them.

She drew her gun and pointed it at the man. "What's your name?" she asked.

The stranger sighed and rubbed his neck. "Jamaal," he said. "What's yours?"

That was all Jan needed to her. Quickly, she put away her weapons and walked over. "Jan," she said. "I'm Lexie's friend."

"Where is she?" Jamaal asked.

Jan just shook her head. Jamaal closed his eyes and lay back down on the ground.

"We should get out of here," she said. "I don't know where the rest of the group is, but I heard gunfire."

"You go," Jamaal said. "I'm done."

"No, you're not," Jan argued. "You think you are, but you're not. Come on. On your feet."

With a little assistance from Jamaal, she pulled him upright, but his broken leg could bear no weight.

"Stay there," she told him. "I have an idea."

A few minutes later she returned with the wheelbarrow from near the gate and helped him climb in. He was a heavy load, but she could manage fairly easily. She headed for the gate.

"Where we goin'?" Jamaal asked.

"Thought you didn't care?"

"I don't," he said. "I just hope it's not too far for your sake."

"Don't worry about me, I'm a tough old bird," Jan said, as she exited the gate and turned in the direction of the cabin where she had found Lexie.

Just then, a voice from farther down the mountain called out. "Help! Is someone there? Help!"

"Could be a trap," Jamaal cautioned.

Jan drew her gun. "I know," she said. "Stay here."

She found Delshawn in the woods with little trouble.

"You from the Family?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he acknowledged. "I remember you. You blew up the bridge with the pretty girl."

"You bit?" Jan asked.

"No, just shot. They left me here." His voice grew pleading. "I know I don't have any right to ask, but I don't want to turn. I know I'm gonna die, just, please, do it now."

Jan turned and walked away without a word.

Delshawn began to cry.

A few minutes later, Jan returned, pushing a wheelbarrow that held a large black man that Delshawn didn't recognize.

"You gotta be kidding!" Jamaal said.

"Nope," Jan said. "He's skinny. I can take you both."

"Maybe, but a couple of hours ago he was shooting at us!"

"Listen up," she said in the voice that she usually reserved for basketball teams that weren't playing to their potential. "We might be the only three living people left on this mountain. Only way we can survive is if we help each other." She turned to Delshawn. "You on board with that?"

Wiping tears from his face, the teenager nodded enthusiastically.

Seeing that Jamaal was no longer complaining, Jan hoisted Delshawn by his armpits and dragged him over to the wheelbarrow, toppling him in partially on top of Jamaal.

"Why couldn't one of you have gotten hit in the arm instead of the leg?" she asked grumpily as she lifted the handles and began the slow process of moving the men to the cabin in the woods.

Delshawn couldn't stop smiling. "I'm Delshawn," he said, holding a hand out to shake.

Jamaal didn't take it. "Jamaal," he said, unsmiling.

"You might as well shake his hand," Jan told him. "I have a feeling we're all going to get to know each other real well before long."

And then she stopped talking, saving her energy for the long walk ahead.


End file.
